I see about the ly’s. Thanks for your review! :)
Crime, Thrillers & Mystery / Windows to the Soul (part 1) (Analysis)
Prologue
Searing pain, stabbing through his head, woke him from one of the only peaceful moments he had now. He had awakened several times but had been unable to stay conscious long enough to see where he was. He moaned as the pain now brought him to full consciousness. His hands went instinctively to cradle his head but were stopped midway. There were handcuffs on both wrists with chains securing them somewhere behind him. The right side of his body ached from exposure to the cold cement floor he lay upon. There was a faint light coming from a small window in the room but looking at it only caused intensity in the pain in his head.
He tried to take in his surroundings. Ahead of him, were old shelves stuffed full of junk, with old car parts and tires stacked along the right hand wall. The wall to the left in the room had rickety wooden stairs going up to someplace he couldn’t see from his position on the floor. To the back of him was a bare cement wall, the chains to the cuffs were bolted there. His feet were also shackled with cuffs. He attempted to test the cuffs but the pain was too intense. He was aware that he was in a basement, but where? And who had brought him here, and why was he bound? He tried to lift himself into a sitting position when he cried out in pain. The pain was so intense that it had, mercifully, caused him to lose consciousness again.
A shadowy figure came bounding down the stairs and saw his victim still cuffed and lying on the floor. He leaned over his victim and stayed posed there for a moment, assuring himself that the man was still breathing. No movement. He kicked at the unconscious man, kicking him in the ribs. No movement, but he did hear a slight moan. The figure turned and walked away, heading back up the stairs, assured that his prey was still alive and secured.
Chapter One
Detective Steven Johnson was standing in the living room of the penthouse. He had been here before, had delivered bad news to these people before, but had still not gotten used to it.
“I’m very sorry Mrs. Giovanni, but that lead took us nowhere.” He ran his fingers through his strawberry blonde hair as he spoke to the woman. He hated seeing Allicia’s face fall after each lead would offer no new information to bring her husband home. She began to cry like she had so many times before.
“This one sounded legitimate Mrs. Giovanni. We have followed up on any lead
we feel is credible, just in case…,” his voice faded off. Johnson knew they were all losing faith and getting to the point of believing that her husband would never be found alive. You could see it in their eyes. Hope was beginning to fade with each false lead he was forced to report to them and no valid news of her husband’s whereabouts.
“Please don’t give up Steven, follow any lead you get to find him,” Allicia’s father James pleaded. He turned to look out on the New York skyline. “Someone in this godless city has to know something, has to have seen something!” He had visibly suffered these past two weeks; it was apparent how much he loved his son-in-law. His once apparent faith, that had held strong throughout this time, was visibly beginning to fade. His broad shoulders slumped, his steps now slowed with exhaustion. “He’s alive, I feel it. He’s very strong willed, he will come home,” tears were now streaming down his face.
Detective Johnson walked over to where he stood and placed his hand on James’ shoulder. “Don’t lose faith James. Remember, that may be all that’s keeping him alive, if…,” he faded off, not meaning too. Working crimes in the streets of New York City left a man feeling that not even faith could change things.
Johnson recalled the first time he had met these people, the first time he had entered the penthouse. He had received the call that a man was missing in an exclusive area, even for upper Manhattan. The security guard at the front entrance was demanding to see his I.D., which he was having trouble fishing out of his wrinkled pants. He felt very out of place in the luxury of this building. The exquisite furnishings in the lobby were just a small indication of the money flowing from the pockets of its inhabitants.
“It’s okay Terrance, he’s with me,” Johnson heard and turned to see his Captain barreling down the hallway toward them. The security officer gave him a last scathing look and walked away.
“Steven, this kid went missing early this morning,” Captain Billings began filling him in. “Twenty-six years of age, six-foot, dark hair, Italian. His wife said he left around 4:30 a.m., his normal time to run before he goes to work. Usually runs for one hour, then back for a quick shower before heading out.” The Captain stopped and turned to look Johnson in the eye. “This kid has lots of friends in high places Steven, so let’s get this thing solved fast,” he stated nervously. They began walking again as the Captain continued with what was known so far about the case. “Not a single sign of him anywhere, vehicle is still in the parking garage. Security is pulling the camera tapes as we speak.” Johnson wondered who was pushing to find this “kid” as Captain Billings huffed and waddled his short, round body down the hallway. His almost bald head was covered with sweat beads that gleamed like raindrops under the hallway lights. He had an appearance of determination in his step and look in his eyes that let Johnson know that he would dedicate the entire force to get this case solved fast.
“Head’s up,” the Captain warned. “His wife and in-laws are here, and so is Judge Keefdon.”
“Ah!” Johnson thought, the answer to the “who was pushing” question in his mind. Johnson knew Keefdon to be the worst judge to deal with in the county. Fair, but extremely anal retentive. Going into his chambers for a warrant signature without the t’s crossed meant being thrown out on your ass. He was notorious for his sternness in court and any defense attorney would cringe when seeing his name appear on anything to do with their case.
The two men finally arrived at the penthouse apartment where two uniformed officers were posted. Johnson’s imagination couldn’t even have come up with anything as luxurious as what he saw upon entering the apartment. The front door entered into a huge living room with black marble floors and luxurious white leather furniture. To the back of the living room was the dining area with floor to ceiling glass that looked out onto the most amazing view of New York that Johnson had ever seen. He tried to imagine the view at night; the city lights could make even this filthy city look beautiful.
The right side of the living area held a beautiful black marble fireplace, inside, a cozy crackling fire. The mantel was massive with a large painting hanging above it and several smaller, silver framed pictures on the mantel piece itself. The large painting was, Johnson would later find out, the home and grounds of the original, 1800’s, Giovanni estate in Sicily. The smaller pictures looked to be portraits of various people. There were huge, luxurious plants around the glass panes that looked out to the city. Johnson was secretly glad that the investigation team was going through everything in the apartment. This gave him a legitimate excuse to visit every room in the penthouse.
Immediately to the left of the entranceway were French doors leading to the master bedroom. Of course, another impressive room lay beyond those French doors. The room had black wooden floors, shined to a brilliant gloss. The furniture all matched the floor color. A huge dresser, two chests and a massive bed were placed around the room. The bedding was pure white, lots of pillows, and the bedspread looked so soft that you could get lost in it. There was a big armoire that discretely held a flat screen television and music system.
There were his and her walk-in closets that were probably bigger than Johnson’s entire apartment. The “his” side was full of gorgeous Italian suits and shoes. Every color of shirt you could think of, with of course, matching ties. There were also casual clothes here and there, but the fancy suits far outnumbered them. A glassed in jewelry case held Rolex watches, diamond rings, and tie and cuff links, among other miscellaneous and very expensive jewelry. Johnson turned to Captain Billings, who had taken the tour with him.
“You ever seen so many shoes in your life boss?” Johnson grinned as he saw Billings staring wide-eyed into the closet. Billings had been periodically commenting with a “holey moley,” while they were looking around.
Johnson opened the “her” closet and gasped. Twice as many shoes, he couldn’t believe his eyes. “Glad I’m single. Can you imagine how much just the shoes in this apartment cost?” Billings said. Clothes lined the walls; evening gowns, dresses, ladies suits, cashmere sweaters, silk robes, designer jeans, a massive amount of clothing. There were clothes with tags still on them, never even worn. Purses, sunglasses, Prada, Vera Wang, Donna Karen and designers that Johnson had never heard of hung in this closet. The “her” glassed in jewelry case was packed full of beautiful pieces of jewelry.
There was another door that led to a steam room, Jacuzzi and work out room. “Holey moley!” Billings whistled again. “I just can’t believe all this is real. You ever seen anything like all this in your whole, entire life Johnson? Oh man, I would love to try this kind of life, even if just for a year or so,” Billings said excitedly.
“Not me Captain,” Johnson replied. “To get used to it and then go back to living in my crummy apartment with no money? I’m afraid I would have to take a nose dive off of that fancy balcony out there.” The same magnificent view from the living room continued into the master bedroom.
The rest of the penthouse was just as spectacular. A woman’s dream kitchen, with every gadget you could think of. Three guest bedrooms with luxurious furnishings and private baths.
“Captain, how does someone so young have so much?” Johnson asked.
“Old money Steven. Old, Italian money,” Billings answered.
“Daniel! Where are those security tapes? Have you found anything yet?” Judge Keefdon barked as the Captain and Johnson re-entered the living area. The Judge was leaning against the fireplace mantel. His left hand was planted firmly on his hip, a frown knitting his heavy black eyebrows together. His black handlebar mustache was dancing as he spoke but not one hair on his perfectly coiffed head moved out of place.
“No, your honor sir,” Billings huffed as he tried to catch his breath long enough to answer. “I mean, we haven’t viewed the security tapes yet sir, they are being loaded now sir.”
“God, what a brown noser,” Johnson was thinking as he tried to disappear from view of the judge.
“And what about you Johnson? Are you investigating or standing around with your head up your ass?” Keefdon yelled.
“I was assigned ten minutes ago Judge. I just arrived on scene and Captain Billings has been filling me in on…,” he was interrupted by the judge.
“I don’t care what he is filling you in on! This kid means a lot to his family and to this community and I want the entire police force dedicated, one hundred percent, to finding him as quickly as possible!” Keefdon’s veins were standing out on his neck and forehead now. One particularly blue shaded one was zigzagging from the right side of his forehead to the left temple. Johnson found himself staring at it while the Judge’s rant went on and on. It seemed to pulsate with each word the Judge screamed out, pulsating away from his forehead, reaching for Johnson. “Hello! Are you two idiots listening to me?” the Judge yelled. Johnson snapped back to reality and averted his eyes from the Judge’s hypnotizing blood vein.
“Yes sir, we are listening to your every word sir!” Billings said nervously,
sounding like a new recruit standing in front of his first drill sergeant. He was determined that the rest of the city could go to hell while this Giovanni kid was missing.
Johnson walked over to the mantle and began to scan the family pictures, when he recognized the face of the missing young man. The judge had been right about how much Julian Giovanni meant to this community. Giovanni had established four inner city youth centers in the city in the past four years. He had been directly responsible for helping troubled teens, and gang members, change their lives and become contributing members of society. A lot of the former gang members were now actively working with Giovanni to get the family of current members involved in their children and grandchildren’s education and after school activities. Giovanni was also funding numerous college educations for the students who had completed his program and gone on to further their education.
The face staring back at him from the picture was not only breathtakingly beautiful, but had a kind look in his eyes that would draw anyone into conversation. A confident look with a softness that made you know he had something important to say that he felt would change your life. Not a typical “Christian” look, his hair was long and jet black, tanned olive skin and the most amazing blue eyes, the color of a turquoise ocean on a clear, sunny day. The smile displayed brilliant white, perfectly aligned teeth. Johnson was thinking he had never seen anyone, male or female, so striking in all his life. “All plastic surgery I bet,” he was thinking to himself.
“Steven, are you daydreaming?” his captain was now by his side, breaking him from his train of thought. Johnson looked around the room to find the Judge had finally left and Giovanni’s family was gathered together on the sofa.
“Sorry boss, I was just trying to think where to go with this,” he answered Captain Billings.
“Who knows what might have happened here. Maybe he got tired of being married and just left,” Billings said. Somehow, looking back at the eyes in the picture, Johnson knew this was not the case.
Questioning the family was brief, the in-laws were in for a visit from North Dakota, and Julian had planned on taking his father-in-law with him to his main office after his morning run. He had left for his run at 4:30 a.m., and had not returned. His cell phone never left his side and numerous calls and messages had gone unanswered. They were visibly distraught to the point where Johnson instantly knew they had nothing to do with the disappearance. Any seasoned detective could tell when they had done this job for long. He saw genuine fear and uncertainty in their faces and heard it in their voices.
Julian’s wife, Allicia was a beautiful young lady. Twenty four, shoulder length dark brown hair, huge brown eyes that filled with tears that would not stop flowing. Her small hands were fidgeting with a handkerchief that was visibly soaked with her tears. Her impressive diamond ring was catching the light as she twisted the handkerchief.
“Something has happened to him, I feel it. Why hasn’t someone called to let us know something? A hospital, the police, someone!” she cried into the handkerchief.
“Mrs. Giovanni, we have no reports of anyone being injured and we have checked with the hospitals and no one fitting his description has been brought in,” Johnson said quietly. Her cries became inconsolable, despite her mother holding her and trying her best to comfort.
“He adores Allicia,” James, Julian’s father-in-law, offered. “He hasn’t left, he isn’t tired of being married, he is missing!” James directed his comment toward Billings, letting him know that he had overheard the comment.
The private elevator door to the penthouse opened at that moment and a small, dark haired woman bolted in and grabbed Allicia, and they cried together. A moment later, a tall thin man hurried in after her. “James, any news?” the man asked. This turned out to be Julian’s twin sister, Jillian, and her husband Terry, “T.J.”
“Nothing,” James answered as the two men embraced. Questioning Jillian and T.J. proved to be time consuming. They would both break down periodically and it took time for them to compose themselves and continue. Neither had any idea who would want to harm Julian. Jillian seemed to think he was just delayed somewhere.
“I just don’t feel anything,” she kept saying. It seemed she would at time feel ill when her brother was ill, or stressed when he was stressed. But too, she also stated that it was definitely not like Julian to not be where he said he would be. He was a man of his word, they all agreed. If he had told his family that he would return after his run, he would return. Unless something had happened to him. And then he hadn’t even called. Yes something was definitely wrong.
After getting what information they could from the family, Johnson and Billings made their way to the security office on the first floor. Here they met with Officer Rogers who guided them through the security process for the building. The office scheduled one officer that patrolled the lobby, and two armed officers that stayed in a locked room and watched the twenty cameras that were placed throughout the building and on the front and back of the building. The two that were to be in the camera room were not allowed to unlock the door from their side for anyone; even for their shift change without going through a complicated procedure.
“Is this your S.O.P. Officer Rogers, or was this implemented with Giovanni’s disappearance?” Johnson asked.
“Standard operating procedures, Detective. This procedure has been in place since 1998. Each day there is a new and specific entry word that only our officers know. They are not told this entry word until they are ready to enter the security office,” Rogers told him.
“Isn’t this all a bit extreme, even for this building?” Johnson asked.
“Our tenant’s safety and security are of great importance, and believe me, they pay well for the peace of mind,” Rogers offered.
“Yes, I’m sure they do,” Johnson said.
The men entered the security office where the tapes were loaded and ready to view. The lobby camera showed Julian briefly speaking with the security officer, smiling, waving, and then out the door for his run. The time was 4:27 a.m. The front outside camera had followed him to the corner, where he crossed the street and disappeared out of the camera’s view. Films from the rest of the building, including the parking garage, had not shown Giovanni at all. He had simply gone out to run and had never returned. Johnson had a bad feeling that this case was not going to have a good outcome.
Johnson and Billings had then began conducting interviews with other tenants in the building. The apartments were huge, only two to a floor, with the one directly beneath the Giovanni’s belonging to Jillian and T.J. The other apartment owners seemed genuinely upset about Giovanni’s disappearance. It made most feel vulnerable and the ladies seemed to be reluctant to go out alone, or even open the door for the officers to interview them.
“I just pray you find him safe and well,” one particular elderly gentleman tenant said. “He really is a precious young man. I can’t tell you the number of times I needed help and he never told me no or said he was too busy, he just came to help,” the man told them, with tears running down his face. “I just pray that someone finds him safe and sound,” he said through his tears.
These same sentiments were echoed by each tenant interviewed. No one had a complaint or negative comment to say about Julian Giovanni. An elderly woman on the fourth floor had told them a story similar to the man downstairs from her.
“I called him out of the blue the morning my sweet Richard had passed. I don’t know why he was the first one that I thought of, or even why he was home that time of the day,” Mrs. Conner told the detectives. “He came right down here and called the ambulance and police for me. My poor Richard, he had been gone for a long time, you could tell. He was all gray and stiff. But Julian made me feel safe and took care of me for days afterward, he and his little wife. He even took care of the funeral arrangements and getting all of my folks here…paid for everything too, and wouldn’t let me pay him back. That’s just the kind of boy he is,” she finished, beginning to cry as she remembered her story.
As the detectives wrapped up things for the night, Johnson was deep in thought about the case. “Captain, this kid has to have an enemy somewhere in this city, I guess tomorrow it’s time to beat the pavement. Or, I guess I should say today.” He was looking at his watch, it was already 1:00 a.m.
“Let me know what you need Steven. The precinct will be at your disposal for the duration of this investigation. Start interviews with adjacent buildings and then start interviews along his usual run route. This kid was too trusting, he never changed his run route that his family knew of. That mistake could’ve cost him his life.”
Chapter Two
“Wake up! Julian, wake up!” You have to drink and eat. Julian tried to focus on the voice but was unable to come up out of the fog in his brain. “I brought you some water, try to stay awake,” the voice said. A brutal kick to the ribs…a groan.
“What the hell? Can’t you get him awake? Another voiced boomed into his aching head.
“No. I can’t even get him awake enough to sip water,” the first bodiless voice said. Julian was barely aware of his shoulder being shaken violently.
“Wake up boy!” Again a kick, this time from behind, connecting with his back. No reaction. “See! You idiot, I told you you’re killing him! You should’ve have brought him here, now he’ll die and they will find you!” the first voice said. He was barely conscious enough to recognize this voice as female before the merciful darkness had taken over his mind again.
“You need to leave him alone! Leave him alone before you kill him!” the woman begged.
“Shut up bitch, it isn’t time for him to die yet,” the man yelled back at her.
The woman headed toward the stairs and started up them, crying along the way. She was afraid the boy would die there, in the cold basement, without his loved ones there. She was also afraid that her husband would lead the police to their home, to her. She turned at the top of the stairs to look back at the boy. Her husband walked over to him, kicked him once again and bent over to try to waken him. She went into the house and shut the door, blocking out any other sights or sounds from the basement.
The man was crouched over the boy. Hatred was coursing through his body as if his heart itself were pumping it through him. The day for the boy to die was close, but far enough away that he had to be kept alive somehow. Dying now would be too easy for all the pain he had caused the man. “You owe me! Do you hear me? You owe me and I will have my day!”
Chapter Three
Early the morning following Julian’s disappearance, Detective Steven Johnson headed to the main teen center where Giovanni spent the majority of his time. He had had to get passed in by a security officer at the gate, and then buzzed into the building after showing his police I.D. to a small security camera outside of the building.
Inside he was met by a tall, lanky teenage boy that took him to meet Julian’s assistant, Marilyn. Marilyn was standing by her desk with a few of the teens from the center standing around her asking questions. Calvin, the teen who had escorted him in, had told Marilyn who he was and she turned to him with an incredulous look. He almost wanted to take a step back away from the woman. She was very short, couldn’t be over five feet tall, but he could tell she had the attitude of being ten foot tall.
“Detective Johnson, ma’am,” he said, awkwardly sticking out his hand. In return he received an eyeing from head to toe. Eventually, he received the small, chubby black hand into his.
“What are you doing to find our Julian?” she asked abruptly.
“Excuse me?” he thought he had misunderstood the question. At that moment, the little woman with the big attitude began to cry softy. More and more teens were gathering around her now, trying to comfort her, all with tears flowing freely. They were obviously heart broken that their friend was missing.
“Children,” she turned toward the group, “I will let you know the moment I hear anything about Julie. Go on to your activities now like you know he would want you too.”
“But,” began a short, dark haired boy.
“Travez, go to class. I will let you know anything that I know, I promise. Marilyn went over to the boy and took him gently by the arm. “I know exactly how you feel honey. We just have to believe that God is taking care of him and he will come back to us. Please go on to class and let me talk to the detective,” she finished. The boy reluctantly turned and walked to a small crowd of children waiting for him.
“Is there somewhere we can speak privately ma’am?” Johnson asked. Marilyn led him into Julian’s personal office, just behind her desk. The office was extravagant, as was everything he had encountered in the center so far. Definitely a man’s office with brown leather furniture and thick soft carpet. The huge, glass top desk had everything in it’s place. There was a large, flat screen computer monitor, keyboard, phone and pencil holder placed neatly on the desk. On the left hand corner of the desk were four silver picture frames. The photos in them were of Julian and Alicia, one of Allicia alone, one of Jillian and T.J., and the last was of Julian with his in-law’s. Large glass shelves behind the desk held his ivy league law degree, numerous plaques and awards from various organizations, and a set of law books.
Marilyn was proudly showing Johnson around the office, explaining anything she thought necessary at the moment. She led him back over to the seating area and they both settled down onto the soft, leather couch.
“I’ve always worried about something like this happening to Julian,” she said as she continually wiped at her eyes with the tissue she carried with her. “He makes parents and these kids so mad at times,” she volunteered.
“How’s that?” Johnson asked. He began to pull a notepad and pen from his pocket.
“Well, there are times when the courts award him custody of one of the kids when their parents aren’t willing to let them stay here. The judges have all worked with Julie enough to know that he can change any kid they send his way. Sometimes at first the kids don’t want to be here, and when the judge forces them too, they aren’t too happy. Of course they always love it here but sometimes it takes time for them to give in and decide they will work to help themselves be better. She was straightening magazines on the coffee table and dabbing at her eyes while talking. We have had only one boy leave here the same as he came. He went back to his gang and was shot dead in a drive by shooting about a year later. Julian never got over that loss, he always wondered what he could have done different.”
“This is the only stable environment that some of these kids have ever known, and the only time they’ve ever been shown love,” she said. As she elaborated on the creation of the centers, and the opposition Julian faced when he began, it became evident to Johnson that Giovanni had made some enemies in the past. One in particular peaked his interest. Bobby Stewart.
Julian had been awarded guardianship of Bobby’s son, Alex, two years prior. Alex had been abused by his father and had been into countless run-in’s with the police and juvenile system. Judge Keefdon had looked down from his bench on this rugged, tattooed punk and was ready to deliver him to the department of corrections as an adult when he thought of Julian. He knew by now that when that face popped into his mind while doing his job, it was no coincidence. He chose to give Alex a chance at life, away from his father. Alex had met Julian on the street before and had been impressed with him, despite denying the fact to his brother gang members. When the judge offered the deal to Alex’s lawyer, he noticed the boy’s father begin to chatter excitedly to the court appointed lawyer. The judge was advised that Bobby Stewart had refused for his son to take advantage of the program. After speaking to Julian himself, and Julian meeting with Alex, the judge temporarily suspended the parental rights and awarded guardianship to Julian. According to Marilyn, Bobby Stewart had become enraged and had to be dragged from the courtroom. Since then, Julian had received numerous visits and threats from Stewart, despite warnings from the court and arrests for violating the judge’s warnings.
Alex had eventually gotten used to the center and had excelled in his school work, and had indeed changed his life. Once he became of age, he left New York and his father’s abusive ways for a job opportunity in California. He was even attending college, thanks to Giovanni. Stewart had always blamed Julian for the loss of his son, but as far as Marilyn knew, had not had contact with Julian in the past twelve months.
As far as Johnson was concerned, Stewart would be a suspect. In fact, the only one he had so far. He would certainly be paying Bobby Stewart a visit.
Johnson was at the center way into the evening. He interviewed each counselor and employee and then spoke with the students as a whole. There were two hundred of them and the question and answer period had taken four hours of his time on the case. It was clear that these people and their parents were all very dedicated to Julian and his cause. Johnson checked his watch, it was 5:00 p.m. He headed for the next center to play the scene all over again.
Arriving home way after midnight that night, Johnson clicked on the news for company while getting ready for bed. Pictures of Giovanni were splashed all over every channel. CNN was telecasting live from the center where Marilyn and the others were holding a prayer vigil for his safe return.
Sleep did not come easily to Johnson, he was haunted by the thought of Julian Giovanni. He wondered where he was, probably dead somewhere. He slept fitfully, with the eyes from the picture of Julian haunting his dreams. Julian was guiding him through his dream. He woke momentarily, “lead me where you are Julian,” he whispered and returned to sleep.
He woke early the next morning and met Detective Roddy Smith to being interviews in the neighborhood that the officer he had assigned to do this had not been able to catch. Not many people were up that time of morning and had no idea what was happening in the streets. Those who did rise that early were still drinking coffee or getting dressed for their work day. Most had heard of him and his work with teens, a few had met him in that circumstance, or in passing. Several store owners along his run route knew him personally. The newsstand man on one corner, the lady selling flowers on another. One Asian storeowner three blocks up spoke very fondly of him. “I see him most every morning, I wait for him to come here before I get out of car,” she said sheepishly.
“Why is that Mrs. Chu,” Detective Smith asked.
“Well, I guess I kind of think of him as guardian angel. I meet him early one morning about three years before, and a week before that I was robbed. He was running and I trying to open the door, juggling lots of things and I dropped keys. He asked me if I need help and I got scared. There are lots of bad people in New York…,” she faded off in thought.
“And…?,” Johnson tried to prod her story along.
“When I turn around and see beautiful eyes, I know he be okay to trust. I see him most every morning now, until…” she drifted off again and began to cry softly. “He always stop and open door to make sure I safe before he go on,” tears were flowing freely now.
“Mrs. Chu, do you know anyone who would want to harm Julian Giovanni?” Johnson asked.
“Nobody who know him, that ever talk to him, no,” she sobbed. The detectives thanked the woman and went on to the next store for interviews.
Other store owners and apartment dwellers along his run path echoed the same sentiments. There were plenty of people who knew him because he had paid for a single mother’s groceries or helped an elderly person take their purchases home. All were curious about his disappearance and what leads the police had. The detectives had a few teenagers following them from place to place, waiting outside while interviews were done and then asking questions when they saw the detectives emerge.
Along the streets were dozens of posters asking anyone who might have information concerning Julian’s whereabouts to contact their local precinct. People were volunteering by the droves to pass out fliers and look in abandoned buildings and areas blocks away for any trace of Giovanni. Johnson was concerned that someone could stumble upon a crime scene and unknowingly trample on critical evidence in the case. However, he knew better than to ask them to go home. These people were doing what they could to help find Giovanni in their own way. He had gotten
with coordinators of the search to express his concern and instructions were given to
them on how to handle any information or evidence they may find. The coordinators had called his cell phone fifty-three times before he was forced to ask Captain Billings to send officers down to set up a headquarters for all incoming questions.
His detectives and he, continued to interview people late into the night. Most of these were parents of students at the teen centers. All loved Julian and had worked closely with him to save their troubled children. Some had expressed anger in the beginning when Julian had been awarded temporary custody of their child. But all had reached the point where his taking custody had quickly become a relief and blessing. Many had seen immediate results in their child’s behavior, other’s had taken a bit longer to adjust. A few had then wanted their child back home, and were soon back in the nightmare they had been living before the court’s intervention. All of these parents had turned up on Julian’s doorstep, begging for forgiveness and another chance, which he always afforded them.
The only exception to these people had been Bobby Stewart. Two attempts had been made to interview him but he had not been found at home either time. Johnson would head out to interview him first thing in the morning.
Chapter Four
The next morning, Stewart proved to be easily found. He was in the same house he had lived in for almost ten years. Here he lived with his wife and, until ten months earlier, his son Alex. Bobby’s wife, Gloria, had opened the door to him, pointed him toward the living area, and then shied away to the kitchen. Johnson found Stewart sitting in a beat up chair with a beer in his hand. He was totally unimpressive. He was middle-aged, short, slumped over, greasy blonde hair and a scraggly mustache.
Johnson moved reluctantly closer to Stewart’s chair. Though the house appeared clean, it was furnished very shabbily and smelled like a brewery.
“Mr. Stewart: I’m Detective Steven Johnson, I’m investigating the disappearance of Julian Giovanni and I need to ask you a few questions.” Stewart sat there like a lump without acknowledging that the detective had even entered the room.
“Mr. Stewart, as I stated…” Johnson began again.
“Yes, I heard you Detective.” Stewart finally spoke.
“Ah, the lump speaks,” Johnson thought as he walked around to stand between Stewart and his view of the television.
“I haven’t seen the bastard in over a year, don’t want to see him, don’t care that he’s missing. Probably got what he deserved,” Stewart said with a sneer on his rat face. Johnson instantly hated Bobby Stewart.
“I have heard the contrary Mr. Stewart. I’ve been told you have seen Mr. Giovanni, and in fact threatened him within the past six months. I also know that threat had to do with him helping your son,” Johnson said.
“Yes, he helped my son all right. He helped him move out of the state! Like I said, he probably got what he deserved.” Stewart said.
Johnson was ready to jump onto the lump and thoroughly slap the shit out of him. “Mr. Stewart, where were you on the morning of December 2nd?” He got back a
look of disgust and a grunt.
“How the hell do I know? Do you remember where you were at any given moment of any given day?” Stewart yelled.
“It was two days ago Stewart!” Johnson dropped the formality. “Are you saying you don’t remember where you were just two days ago? I will give you one more chance only, here in the comfort of your…uhm, home. Where were you on the morning of December 2nd at approximately 4:30 a.m.? Johnson blasted back at Stewart.
A small sneer played across Stewart’s ugly face. “Oh darling?” he called out to his wife. “Could you come in here for a second hon?”
She shuffled instead of walked, which Johnson thought could be quite annoying had he had to be there for too long a time. She was a short, dumpy woman with brown hair, graying at the sides. “Huh?” she asked through the bangs that hung to her chin.
“Dear, do you remember me being here on the morning of the 2nd?” he asked. She looked at him with a desperation in her eyes that clearly stated she didn’t know how to answer the question.
“Honey!” he said sternly. Can you tell Detective…whatever, that I was here at home with you on the morning of the 2nd.” He was giving her a look that clearly stated she had better answer the way he wanted.
“He was here,” she answered and shuffled back into the kitchen. Stewart turned to Johnson with a satisfied look on his face.
“She’s real convincing Bobby,” Johnson snorted.
“She doesn’t have to be anything but my alibi,” Stewart looked smugly at Johnson.
“Why would you need an alibi Bobby?” Johnson asked. “Do you have something to hide? Something you need an alibi for?”
I don’t have anything to hide my dear detective…whatever. Everyone knows I hated Giovanni,” Stewart said, staring at his feet.
“It’s Detective Johnson, and everyone knows that you made numerous threats against him also!” Johnson was slowly starting to boil. He was sick of messing with this prick.
“I say lots of things detective, unfortunately it doesn’t make me a murderer,” Stewart was getting up to supposedly escort Johnson to the door.
Johnson stayed put. “Murderer?” Johnson was quick to say. He knew Stewart regretted the word as it left his mouth. “Curious that you would say that since Julian disappeared only two days ago. Do you want to change your story Mr. Stewart?” Johnson had walked over to where Bobby stood and was about three inches from his face.
“I had nothing to do with that bastard’s disappearance. And you, DE-TEC-TIVE, can go straight to hell!” Stewart screamed in Johnson’s face. Johnson’s hand went instinctively up to Stewart’s chest and shoved him back against the door jamb.
“Don’t forget that I can drag you downtown anytime that I want, for questioning!” Johnson spit out. And he would, once he received the police reports from the past threats that Stewart had made against Giovanni.
“You don’t have shit on me. But I do look forward to our next visit Detective whatever!” Stewart smiled.
Johnson left quickly, before he got himself in trouble for beating the living hell out of Bobby Stewart. He would also be back to talk to Stewart’s wife. He knew the look of an abused woman when he saw one. He just hoped that she would be sick enough of him to give him the information he needed to put Stewart away for good.
Later that day Johnson sat at his station desk flipping through page after page of notes he had taken on the Giovanni case. He had nothing solid to report to the Captain.
The penthouse phones were tapped and manned twenty-four hours a day. Kidnapping was at the top of the list of motives due to Giovanni being worth several million dollars. So far, the only calls claiming to have Julian were from crackpots that called in claiming to be responsible for every crime in New York. Only a couple of leads had seemed credible, but were soon dismissed when they led nowhere.
During his investigation, Johnson had gotten a very detailed picture of who Julian Giovanni was. Born the grandson of a wealthy Italian vineyard owner, his parent’s had moved to the United States when he and his sister were three. Here, despite problems within the family , both children thrived, becoming the center of attention wherever they went. The twins excelled in school with both completing high school three years ahead of their peers. Teachers and students alike adored both children and the two had the ability to win over anyone they met.
After a legal separation of their parents, the children went to live with their grandparents, at the age of ten. They spent the school months in New York and the summers at the Giovanni estate in Sicily. Although Julian had had a four year stint of severe drug and alcohol addiction during his junior and senior years of high school, and first two years of college, he had graduated top of his class. On his twenty-first birthday, Julian’s grandfather gave him one million dollars, which Julian had turned into several million in five short years. His desire to help inner city teens make the most of their lives, had dominated his efforts for the past four years.
He met his wife and future in-law’s through his sister’s husband. Once introduced to Allicia, the two became inseparable and married within six months. Since then, Allicia had become an integral part of his work with teens. She worked with him side-by-side at the centers, helping in any way she could so she could be with him. Soon she became to “go to” person for the centers needs, relieving Julian of these tedious duties.
Once Julian became well acquainted with law enforcement and the local government, his work became well known and respected through out the state. Johnson knew that if prayers could bring Julian Giovanni safely home, he would be found alive and well, and soon.
A few more interesting tidbits had surfaced concerning Bobby Stewart. It seems Stewart had made quite a public spectacle of himself anytime there was a hearing concerning his son. He would try to start physical confrontations with Giovanni, along with cursing out loud in the courtroom. He had been arrested for contempt four times and threatened that if it happened again, or if he violated the protection order on his son or the teen center, that he would spend a substantial amount of time in the county jail. He had gone as far as confronting Giovanni outside of the teen center. It hadn’t been a good day for Stewart. He had his ass properly kicked by Giovanni and was on the ground in an instant, chilled out. He had had one more physical run in with Giovanni later on. This time threatening to come to the center and get his son and take him out of state. He had been knocked out cold with one punch from Giovanni. After that time there had been a lot of talk on Bobby’s part, but no more brave attempts at physical violence.
Johnson knew Stewart was no match for Giovanni. So, how had he taken him, if he had indeed been the one who did? He would need help, which meant there was a good chance the second party would slip up and get caught. According to the reports, Stewart had mentioned to several people that, “Giovanni might just disappear one of these days.” Johnson decided he had enough to have officers pick Stewart up and bring him in for formal questioning.
Bobby Stewart was in his basement when his wife called down. “Bobby? There are two police officers here and they want to speak to you!”
“Damn that fool woman!” Stewart muttered under his breath. He ran quickly up the stairs and through the door that led into the kitchen. He locked the door and went in to the living room to speak to the two officers. He soon returned to the kitchen and roughly took hold of Gloria’s arm and pulled her into the corner.
“Ow, Bobby you are hurting me!” she tried to say as quietly as possible.
“They are taking me downtown. You make sure you don’t talk to anyone about anything, you hear me?” he gave her arm a hard squeeze to drill in his point. She grimaced and looked in his eyes.
“Do not let anyone in that basement! You do and I will kill you, understand?” his eyes burned into hers.
“Okay, okay! I won’t let anyone in, please let go of me,” she begged. He finally loosened his grip and rechecked the lock on the basement door. Satisfied, he went back to the two officers who escorted him out.
Gloria was glad he was gone. Maybe the cops would keep him for a couple of days and give her some peace of mind. She was tempted to call them and tell them what her husband had been up to. “That would serve you right!” she yelled out loud. She had such hostility built up inside her since their son had left the city. She knew that Alex’s problem had been a result of his relationship with his father. Bobby had been a bad father, abusing his son physically since he was small. She could only hope that despite Bobby, Alex would learn to love a woman and treat her as his queen. And that someday, he would be a responsible and loving father that would teach his children right from wrong. God knows Alex hadn’t had much of an example in Bobby, but if Julian had intervened quickly enough, while Alex was still able to learn these things, then he would be fine.
She cried softly to herself. Cried for herself and for her son. Why couldn’t she leave him? Why couldn’t she be like Alex and go to start anew somewhere far away from Bobby? She felt disgusted with herself for not having the courage to leave, or the skills to make it on her own.
She had convinced Bobby to allow her to attend vocational school a few years back. She had told him that if she were to get a job that she could buy them a vehicle and then he could get a better job. Of course he tried to deny her a chance to better herself, but after months of begging, he finally relented. She began secretarial training at the vocational center a few miles from their home. Her entire student career lasted a total of two weeks. She became sick of his yelling at her every day when she left, and sick of trying to hide the evidence of the physical abuse she endured just to be able to go to school.
Gloria had been such a loner at school that no one even knew her name. No one noticed when she came in with bruises on her face, to withdraw from school. Gloria felt so alone in the world. She had long since stopped fantasizing about leaving Bobby. She had forgotten about the handsome prince charming that would find her and take her away from this dreadful life. For almost a year she was hoping that Julian Giovanni was that prince. He had taken Alex away, but had not come back for her. If she had ever whispered the words to let him know she needed to be rescued, would he have saved her? Would he have taken her far away from Bobby so that she would not have to look at him ever again?
She openly wept now, her shoulder jerking with the sobs that were wracking her body. It was useless now to have hope. She knew Bobby had won. She would spend the rest of her dismal life here in this house with him. She would never better herself, never be rescued, and never escape. She resigned herself to her fate and began walking to the kitchen to work on dinner. There was a knock on the door.
Chapter Five
“This guy has got something to do with Giovanni’s disappearance Captain, I feel it,” Johnson was following Billings back from the candy vending machines where the captain had loaded up on all his favorites for the afternoon.
“Sounds that way,” Billings said. “Where was he the morning Julian disappeared Steven?” Billings was gathering up old candy and chip wrappers from his desk and throwing them away.
“Supposedly at home with his wife, so they both say. I haven’t found anyone yet to say otherwise either,” he reported to Billings.
“Well if this creep is guilty of taking this kid, someone has to know something,” Billings said through a mouth full of Butterfinger. “The mayor has called every day to my office Steven, he wants every detail of the investigation reported to him. You need to pin this guy and get him to tell you where Giovanni is, dead or alive. I’m getting so much pressure from so many places that I’m about to buckle,” Billings said with a long sigh for emphasis, blowing out bits of candy as he did.” “Get that fool in here and question him, and let’s find this boy.”
“He should be on his way here now Captain,” Johnson said. He had told the two patrolmen that he had sent to get the lump, that they had thirty minutes to get him back to the precinct. He couldn’t wait to talk to the creep, to break him and find Julian Giovanni. He would know something by the end of today if he had to choke the life out of this piece of work in the process. He walked to the coffee machine and to visit with other detectives until Stewart arrived.
A few minutes later, Johnson walked down the hall to where the two officers that he had sent after Stewart stood. “Thanks boys, I’ll let him sweat a little before I go in,” Johnson said. He walked into the small room beside the interrogation room, and looked through the two way mirror at the creep on the other side.
Bobby was sitting slumped down in a chair and was making faces at the mirror in front of him…just in case someone was watching. He then got up out of the chair, walked over to the mirror, almost tripping on the way, pressed his nose and lips up against the mirror and blew. His ridiculous face blew up around the mirror.
“Oh God, I hate this man!” Johnson was saying. He became transfixed on Bobby’s teeth; half were missing, the other half rotted and threatening to fall out of his mouth. “Probably all due to smoking crack,” Johnson thought.
Bobby’s record was full of drug offenses, two-bit robberies, that sort of thing. He had spent six years in prison for distributing heroin. Not much of a sentence, but then again he had turned state’s evidence on the main source.
Billings popped his head in the small room where Johnson was watching Stewart. “Go get him Steven,” he said and closed the door.
“Huh?” Johnson asked. He hadn’t noticed the Captain come in at all. He stood back, lit a cigarette and watched Stewart walk back to the chair and sit down. He studied the lump for a while, trying to decide how to approach him. He had enough circumstantial evidence to bring him in for questioning, but not enough for the D.A to bring charges. Not yet anyway.
Johnson couldn’t help thinking about Giovanni’s wife. She was crumbling before his very eyes, getting weaker and weaker. He had never seen a woman with so much love for her husband that she would wilt away like that. Her parents were the same way. Trying to be strong for their daughter, but hope was almost gone with no word from Julian. The officers had all been gentle in telling them that there would be little hope of finding him alive. But they all refused to believe it, to even let it cross their minds. He wanted so much to give them the answer they wanted to hear.
He waited almost an hour before entering the interrogation room. By that time Bobby was visibly squirming in his chair. He had given up trying to convince himself that someone was watching him through the mirror, and was picking his nose. Johnson gathered up the file of information he had on the case and turned the doorknob. “Time to crack the nut,” he said quietly.
Bobby heard the door begin to open and slumped back down and flung one leg over the arm of the chair, trying to appear calm and aloof, all the while, his heart pounding away in his chest. The door opened and Steven entered the room.
“Well, DE-TEC-TIVE Johnson, so nice to see you again. You are looking very…,” he was saying. Johnson quickly moved to the side of the chair and yanked the back of it hard. Bobby landed on the floor with a dazed look on his stupid face.
“Hey! This is police brutality DE-TEC-TIVE.” He began shouting loudly toward the door. “Hey, someone! This pig is in here causing a lawsuit against…,” again he was interrupted.
“Shut your mouth Bobby, nobody in this precinct cares what I’m doing to you. Hell, most of these guys would pay me to beat the shit out of a scumbag like you,” Johnson said as he was practically nose to nose with Stewart.
Stewart looked up at Johnson indignantly. “Why detective, I am an innocent man. I have been on the straight and narrow for a year and you have no…,” he was silenced by the look in Johnson’s eyes. He stood up and backed up a couple of steps. Johnson kicked the chair over to him and told him to sit down.
“You and me Bobby, we got some talking to do.” He took a seat across the table from Stewart.
“I got nothing to say without a lawyer present,” Stewart dared to flash a rotten toothed smile Johnson’s way.
“You’re in a lot of trouble here Bobby. I have a stack of statements from eight months ago from you threatening Julian Giovanni and stating that you might just make him disappear off the face of the earth.” No answer. “There are a lot of people watching this case Bobby. People in high places who are ready to see someone fry for this kid.” Again, no reply. “What do you want to tell me Bobby?” he tried really hard to sound civil. Once again, no reply, just a smartass look across Stewart’s face.
Johnson left the room quickly, mostly to keep from wiping the smartass look off of Stewart’s face. He placed a call from his desk phone.
“Stan? Have you talked to Stewart’s wife? Has she told you anything?” he asked into the phone.
“No, she hasn’t,” reported the officer. “She still swears he was here that morning, even though she can’t tell us anything else about that day. Swears she isn’t trying to cover up for him.”
Johnson was disappointed. “Stay with her, keep on her. She knows something she isn’t telling us. Promise her protection and relocation if she needs it. Offer to take her somewhere that he won’t find her.”
Stan sighed. “You got it Steven, we’ll do our best.”
“Where is she now?” Johnson asked.
“Downstairs somewhere, in the basement I think. We heard a noise and she said she had to get the dog out of the basement, or some kind of crap,” Stan replied. “She’s a strange one Steven.” Johnson agreed and Stan hung up the phone and sat back on the dirty couch and waited on the odd women to reappear.
As he walked back to the interrogation room, Johnson knew how to get to Bobby Stewart. He entered the room and closed his cell phone cover dramatically. “Well Bobby, my crew is at your place right now talking to Gloria.” Stewart shot straight up in the chair.
“For what? She already told you I was with her that morning,” Bobby blurted out.
“Maybe she changed her story Bobby. Maybe she told the officers that you weren’t home that morning after all,” Johnson said as he made pretend notes in the file, out of Bobby’s sight.
“Now, let’s start over, what do you say? Tell me where you were on the morning of December 2nd Bobby.”
Bobby sighed deeply and sat back in the chair. “I already told you, I was home. You got nothing but dead ends here do you DE-TEC-TIVE? You ain’t got a prayer of finding him no ways. Whoever took him probably burned the body so no one…” His breath was immediately cut off by Johnson’s hand encircling his neck. Johnson had lost it, he wanted to kill this worthless waste of human life. He didn’t hear the rap at the door.
“Hey Steven?” Officer Smith opened the door, looked at Johnson and then back tracked out the door again. From the other side of the closed door he asked, “Uhm, could I speak privately with you Detective Johnson?”
Johnson slowly released his grip on Stewart’s neck, watching the blood equalize in his greasy face. “Don’t you go anywhere now Bobby, I’ll be right back,” he spit with hatred.
“My God Steven, what the hell were you doing in there?” Smith asked him. “I know you hate this little fucker, but damn!”
“Thanks for interrupting me Stan. I would hate to spend my life in prison just for murdering that worthless piece of shit,” Johnson was smiling, feeling remarkably up at the moment. “What did his wife say? She give up anything on the scuz?” he asked.
Smith was running behind Johnson, trying to stay up with his long legged stride. “No, she just kept saying he was there that day. Even when we promised to protect her, she didn’t change her story,” Stan relayed.
Steven was suddenly very tired.
Chapter Six
Julian jerked awake suddenly, the pain ripping through his body like a thousand knives. He screamed out.
“I’m sorry, I know you are in pain, but if you are to make it out of here alive, I have to cut back on the pain medication,” the female voice said. He tried hard to clear his head and see who was speaking to him, but the small light on in the room made the pain in his head too intense.
“Who…?,” he tried to speak but the words ended in a dry hoarse cough.
“Don’t talk, drink this,” the voice told him. He took a sip of what was offered and was immediately wracked by uncontrollable coughing that caused his screams to return.
“Here, try again.” A cup was being held up to his lips. He refused, he didn’t have the strength. His head cleared for a brief instant and he tried to open his eyes. The light was too intense and he gave up, his head began reeling again with the attempt.
“I’m giving you half of the morphine now, but you must remember not to let him know,” she said. She pleaded with him to withstand the pain while she tried to plan a way of escape. She would need him alert when the time came to try to get him out. She was risking both their lives; she knew it without a doubt. “You have to be quiet and do what he tells you to do. Don’t give him any trouble, please,” she pleaded.
She brushed the dark hair from his beautiful face and tears started to roll down her face. “I’m so sorry.” But he had not heard her apology, he was unconscious again.
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Curtastrophe reviewed Version 6 -
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“The man jerked awake suddenly.” Call it ironic, or counterintuitive, or whatever, but words like “suddenly”, “immediately”, “instantaneously” and their kin actually slow the action in the sentence. “The man jerked awake.” Bam. Having said that, I think this opening scene would be more effective if he slowly came to his senses and the narrative took the reader on his journey of this. Perhaps he’s thinking that he’s in bed and with his eyes still closed wondering why it (actually the floor) is so hard. Or his head could be hurting and he’s wondering if he had a blackout because he again drank too much booze the previous night. He’s kind of pawing around in the dark space of his mind when he his senses come to him and he realizes where he is. Bam. And then, throw in this great action scene you’ve set up that gets the reader’s heart pumping. A good opening sentence/paragraph/chapter is crucial to luring in agents, editors, and finally . . . the people who will pay to read this. Yours is pretty good!
The part where he “suddenly” becomes aware of the dark figure next to him is I believe a little illogical. It’s already been stated that he could see the food, the rats and the roaches, the window, etc. so for this figure just to materialize causes me trouble suspending my disbelief. I think this already suspenseful scene could be heightened even more by him seeing the figure come barreling down the stairs and then stomping towards him as he lay helplessly bound. Then the kick. Ouch! Cut. Chapter One . . .
Instead of telling us Det. Johnson was losing his patience, show us—dialogue works here. It keeps that ball of suspense and action rolling from the previous chapter. The dialogue you have is pretty good, but consider putting that first. I.E.
“I’ve already told you that I’m a Detective assigned to a case in this building! If you will give me two fucking seconds, I will show you my I.D.”
“Please keep your…”
(then)
“Detective Johnson was quickly losing…” He’s fumbling with his wallet and this sort of gives a good cool down to suspense created so far.
while the wanna-be officer / the rentacop –This complements the quite funny, “…let some pretend cop in here let some pretend cop in here…”
Mayor Fellini? I can’t help but think of the great director and am not sure if this is a good thing.
1/3 of the way through this and I think that for the most part, it’s really good. You’ve managed to transition from the suspense to the tense situation involving the detective. The dialog and pretty much everything else is also done quite well. Kudos.
but was still impressed with the penthouse. / but still found the penthouse impressive. –Try to weed out as many of those “to be” verbs as possible. I think this example shows that it can be done without changing the context of the sentence and allows for tighter, more elegant prose.
“…the city lights could make even this filthy city look beautiful.” Great sentence because it really captures an honest image and feeling.
Your ability to capture what the inside of the penthouse looks like is right on. I can see it all very clearly.
“…with bagging hair and carpet samples…” How much hair are they finding? To me this sentence implies that it’s a lot which doesn’t seem logical.
I’m seeing a lot of the word “impressed” or “impressive”
I like the “Her” and the “His” side observation.
inner city / inner-city
I’m chugging through this and think you’ve done a good job of balancing the characters. I lot of times it seems that they’re tripping all over each other and I’m glad there that’s not the case here. Also the descriptions of them are done well. Body language is good.
“…a visit from North Dakota…” A lovely state. No. But I was born there. ;)
does for a living?” Johnson said. / Johnson asked.
wealthy family Detective Johnson. / family, Detective Johnson.
A good place to end it too—on a sarcastically funny note. This was a great revise. I remember reading the first draft which wasn’t bad, but this one shimmers. As stated before, I think you’ve drawn the characters well and introduced them all as soon as possible. As far as crime fiction goes, this is the way to do it—get them all “on stage” post-haste. The plot was established well. Dialog seemed natural and distinct for most characters. I know a lot of people say this, but in this case it’s absolutely true—I would definitely read more of this story. Keep up the good work!
-Curt
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JStavros reviewed Version 6 -
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So far you’re off to a great start, it is written well, and fully captures the readers attention from the beginning and maintains it ‘till the end. The only suggestion I would give you is on the following:
”May I ask what your husband does for a living?” Johnson said.
”My husband operates several youth centers. He began them four years ago while he was still in college,” Allicia said.
”How are the centers supported?” Johnson asked.
”My husband is from a very wealthy family Detective Johnson. We have no money worries,” she answered.
You have already addressed these issues, you might want to remove them when you recognized the fellow from his picture. Its more powerful coming from the family. I don’t think you should state this information twice, at least, so closely together.
Good work!
hypatia reviewed Version 6 -
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Hello, Thank you for sharing your writing.
I have read through this carefully and here is my few humble suggestions.
You use a lot of words ending in ly i.e quickly, suddenly, some of these could be omitted to improve the flow.
You could separate the dialogue by giving it its own line.
He jerked awake suddenly. A searing pain in his head
He maneuvered his way closer to the wall and placed his feet against it, pulling against the cuffs.
His muscles bulged straining to no avail. He reached upwards holding his aching head. His hands met something sticky – blood.
There was no use in trying, or He saw no sense in trying.(To keep with the character)
”Steven, Julian Giovanni went missing early this morning,” Captain Billings said. ”Twenty-six years of age, six-foot, dark hair, and Italian.
He found himself in the master bedroom. or He walked into the master bedroom.
This kid means a lot to his family and the community. I want the entire police force dedicated
Our building security is the best money can buy. or The security measures to safeguard this building are the best money can buy.
They immediately had microphones in their faces and were blinded by camera flashes. Microphones were pushed forward into their faces and camera flashes affected their vision.
Please do not be offended by my suggestions. It is just another POV. Of course your own writing is just as good.
jimthemagic reviewed Version 6 -
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Absolutely great quality crime story. It is ready to be published any time the story is finished. Very talented writing reminds me of Raymond Chandler. Detective Johnson is a possible new century Philip Marlowe.
Clarity of storytelling is admirable. I envy the writer´s skills. Makes me want more and I would definitely be ready to pay for continue. The writing is so great I would recommend this to my friends and to anybody who wants a good quality crime story. To be exact not just a good quality, that is an understatement, but great indeed.
Characterization is perfect. This chapter lets a reader know what is needed and in a fabulous very fine stylish (new yorker style) way. Makes me to congratulate the writer of the story and beg for some more.
If you do not mind let me know more about you. I am a fan of yours!
Owl_Light reviewed Version 6 -
Read 81% of the Item
rat was heading
his captor… he didn’t know if it was 1 or more people who had done this. whoever had…
still unclear why the police activity after such a short time missing
still the description of the apartment is OTT.
typical Christian look. doesn’t mean anything to me.
I like Johnson’s cynicism
what does he do for a living..the answer should have been that he is rich. not that he runs youth centres. or perhaps the question should have been different. the youth centres are not his living so the answer doesn’t fit the question
the continual dialogue is boring.
IDEA
why not intersperse your dialogue with some of the description of the apartment. It’s having no variety that is the killer for the reader.
try: he answered…..
the art on the wall looked….
she said…
he said…
the window was..
michforoffice reviewed Version 6 -
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oh my god, you’re the first person i’ve seen that has used a semicolon correctly! yay!!! (on the first page)
“frantic to free himself” – I like the way that sounds.
“There was no use in trying, the cuffs had been tightened as much as possible” – I think you could say something better than ‘as much as possible’.
“How long had he been here; hours, days?” – I don’t think you used the semicolon correctly here, but I might be wrong.
http://www.essortment.com/all/semicolon_rcnr.htm
I thought your story was interesting and easy to read. I like the character’s interaction between his wife. It seemed guinine and I think you did a really good job with the story. xx
slash14 reviewed Version 6 -
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You have a very good lead, what I would change is how Julian’s wife is given some pretty harsh sounding questions to start off with. I would make the questions less pressing, but if you envision it this way, let me not stop you
oknapp reviewed Version 5 -
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TPage 1
A moan ensued as the pain now brought him to full consciousness. His hands went instinctively to cradle his head but were stopped midway; Take out “were”
Waves of nausea were sweeping over him, causing his body to wretch; the pain stabbing at his body each time. CHANGE SEMICOLON USE.
With great effort, NEEDS A COMMA he tried to take in his surroundings, raising himself to rest on an elbow.
Behind him, the bare cement wall where the chains were bolted This is PASSIVE VOICE. Consider changing
He attempted to test the cuffs but the pain became too intense. He became aware that the room was a basement, but where? (name place it was located)
Page 2
Very clear, good conversations, no grammer issues.
Page 3 His almost bald head. Baldhead is one word.
being throw out—this is passive voice. Consider revising.
mantel piece is actually mantelpiece. one word.
Page 4 A huge dresser, two chests and a massive bed were placed around the room. Passive voice. change “placed around”
There was a big armoire that discretely held a flat screen television and music system. Wordy- Sentence needs to be shortened. Take out “discretely”
Clothes lined the walls; (Take out semicolon) evening gowns, dresses, ladies. (Gender specific. )Take our “ladies” and just say women
Good sounding detective lingo. Flow is good.
Page 5. Fragments. ”Hi Steven. Nothing yet. change to— Hi Steven, nothing yet.
The rest of the penthouse had been scanned by the team. Passive voice—. Say something like: The team carefully scanned the rest of the penthouse.
Old money, Steven. Old money Steven—old, Italian money,” Billings answered. Or you could use a semicolon.
The Judge was leaning against the fireplace mantel, his left hand was planted firmly on his hip, a frown knitted his heavy black eyebrows together. Start new sentence with His left hand… this is a run-on.
Sandi, the comtent of the story is fine. I am trying to find everything for you but it is eating up points. I will email the rest to you. I hope this is okay. Email back.
Squamch reviewed Version 5 -
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Ok, my first thought after reading all this is that it’s obviously an ambitious piece and you seem to be putting a lot of time and effort into it. That said, I think there are a number of problem areas that you might want to look at, and I think another revision is in order.
The first problem I see is your word choice. You return to the same words time and time again where it would enhance the piece to find new, fuller descriptions. For instance, in the first two paragraphs of the prologue, you used the word “pain” six times. Pain is an easy word to find a replacement for, and I think alternate descriptions would be the way to go. This is a problem that runs throughout the piece. For instance: “the city lights could make even this filthy city look beautiful.” – the word city used twice turns what is a great sentence into an awkward one. I love the image of city lights making the city look beautiful, but you need to find a better way to say it, or at least, choose a better word for either the lights or the city itself.
“The security officer that stopped him at the doorway, gave him a last scathing look and walked away” – the comma isn’t needed here.
I think a little more explanation is needed into why such a large search is being undertaken for a man that’s barely been missing for a day. I work with troubled youth and they run away all the time – they’re not technically considered missing until they’ve not been seen for twenty-four hours. I realize that the search for Giovanni is being pushed by the judge, but it took some time for this time become clear. You should make a note that regular procedures are being waved in light of the subject’s stature in the community.
I like the description of the apartment. It flows well and fleshes out the place. I think you have a knack for getting an image in your head of the scene you’re writing, and you seem to see it all in detail.
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