Coming this fall, the third book in the Dark River Series…

Tower Grove

CHAPTER ONE

SISTER MARY BETH TURGOT was on a mission from God. So, the phone call in the middle of the night wasn’t surprising. God doesn’t really sleep, and neither does Sister Mary Beth. Even though Danny Russo had only been working at the legal clinic for six months, he’d already received other calls at odd hours. Sister Mary Beth had no boundaries. Work-life balance didn’t exist in her world.

Danny had been warned about Sister Mary Beth’s eccentricities before accepting the position. The woman’s lack of interpersonal skills were just as well-known as her countless legal victories, but he needed the job. That was the bottom-line. Two of Danny’s three credit cards were maxed-out and the student loan vultures were circling.

He glanced over at his fiancé, Jennifer, on the other side of the bed as Sister Mary Beth began to rattle off a list of things that Danny needed to do immediately. “Hang on,” Danny whispered into the phone. In the darkness, he stumbled toward the door still half-asleep. Sister Mary Beth, however, did not stop talking. She would not just “hang on.” There was work that needed to be done.

She spoke without preamble or emotion. A series of bullet-points continued in a flat, even tone like a doctor relaying a patient’s symptoms into a digital recorder for later transcription. Then, mid-sentence, Sister Mary Beth stopped as if, just then, she’d noticed that Danny had said nothing. “Are you writing this down, Mr. Russo?”

“No…not yet. I’m sorry, I ….” Danny closed the bedroom door. He flipped a switch. The lights for the rest of the small apartment came on and he waited a second for his eyes to adjust. “Give me a moment and I’ll find a pen and some paper.”

“What do you mean? What’s on your nightstand?” There was an edge in her voice.

“Umm…. normal things, I guess.” Danny walked still half-asleep over to his briefcase, which was on the floor of the coat closet. “You know, I’ve got a clock, a light, some books---”

“You need to have a notepad and several pens on your nightstand going forward,” Sister Mary Beth said. “I have two notepads on my nightstand. One is yellow and one is white. The yellow notepad is for new cases and the white notepad for cases that have already been filed with the court. I also have four pens and two pencils. It’s important for an attorney to always be prepared for anything.”

Danny thought of quite a few snarky responses but refrained. He, instead, retrieved his pen and paper and sat down on his old, musty couch. “Okay, I’m ready,” he said. “Can we start at the beginning?”

Sister Mary Beth sighed. “You want me to repeat everything?”

“You told me that somebody was killed in Tower Grove Park,” Danny said. “That’s not too far from where I live.”

“I know. That’s why I called you,” Sister Mary Beth said. “I need you to go over to the park and figure out what’s going on.”

“Right now?” Danny looked at the clock. “It’s 4:00 a.m. If they have somebody in custody, I can just go to the jail and meet with them before the arraignment.”

“I don’t want you to go to the jail. Right now, I want you to go to the park.”

“And do what?” Danny asked.

“Talk to your brother.”

This was not a good idea for many reasons. “I don’t even know if he’s working.” Danny suppressed a yawn, and then added, “And, even if he is on duty, why would he be at the park?”

“Because when a police officer is murdered everybody shows up whether they’re on-duty or not.” Sister Mary Beth’s tone was still flat. “It’s a brotherhood.”

She didn’t need to tell him that it was a brotherhood. Danny understood that more than most. He grew up surrounded by the brotherhood, all of them cops and firefighters. “The name?” Danny gripped his pen, now ready to write it down. “What’s the name of the officer who was killed?”

“Abetto. William Abetto.”

That answer knocked Danny back. Everybody in his old neighborhood knew William Abetto, although most people called him “Bats.” To Danny, he was Uncle Bats. Even though they weren’t technically related, they might as well have been.

“Mr. Russo, are you there?”

Danny said nothing.

Sister Mary Beth repeated the question. After no response, she asked a third time. “Are you there, Mr. Russo?”

There was another long pause, and then Danny said, “Yes, I’m still here…and… I’ll go.”

###

Murder wasn’t rare in St. Louis, especially in the summer. It’s been like that for decades. Sometimes the dead didn’t even merit a full story in the newspaper, just a squib or maybe nothing at all. Even the local television news reporters appeared to have grown tired of it. There were only so many times that viewers were willing to watch a video of a body rolled into an ambulance, a crying mother, or witnesses describing the sound of gunshots.

            This one, however, was different.

            When Danny arrived, all the news stations were represented. Trucks emblazoned with station logos were illegally parked at the corner of Alfred and Magnolia Avenue. Reporters mingled amongst the crowd that had already gathered on the west end of the park. Some of those holding vigil for Abetto had candles. Others brought flowers, cards, photographs, as well as messages written in black marker on pieces of cardboard. The messages were attached to a chain link fence belonging to the Missouri Botanical Garden. The entirety of that fence had now been transformed into a memorial for Abetto.

On the other side, wooden barriers had been erected by the police along with yellow crime scene tape to keep the public at a distance. Temporary lights had also been erected, illuminating the open space just beyond as a team of investigators walked in a line, back and forth in the park’s wide, green spaces. The ones in front waved metal detectors, and the ones behind clutched little flags.

If they found an item of interest— anything from a bullet casing to an empty beer can — a flag was placed next to the potential evidence for further evaluation. Once the field and surrounding area had been searched, the flags were replaced with a numbered marker. Each one photographed from multiple angles and documented, before being bagged and sent to the forensic lab for testing.

A lump formed in Danny Russo’s stomach as he watched the investigation unfold. Surrounded by people who were hurt and grieving, the emotion was contagious. A tear rolled down Danny’s cheek as he separated from the crowd and walked to the other side of the park. His destination was a large, ornate picnic pavilion, which now looked like a spaceship. It glowed in the distance, lit with temporary lights. This was where all the cops were gathered, hoping to be given a job to do.  

He couldn’t just cut across. With the direct route closed, it would take some time to get there. Tower Grove Park was big, 289-acres stretching East to West for a mile and a half. Because of the barricades, he’d have to walk all the way down to the end and approach from the other side, but Danny didn’t mind. He needed the time and space to pull himself together.

Officer John “Bats” Abetto was the last of his kind. He was a throw-back, an old-fashioned beat cop. If Abetto had a patrol car, neither Danny nor anybody else in the close-knit Italian community where he’d grown up had ever seen it. The big man kept the peace in the historic Hill Neighborhood the old-fashioned way; he walked its streets by foot, always wearing a freshly pressed uniform and polished black shoes. Danny doubted that the man even owned regular clothes. He was always in uniform, even when he was at St. Ambrose Catholic Church for mass.

Abetto was the law in Danny’s neighborhood. He had the community’s trust. Couples would call his home number to resolve domestic disputes rather than 911. Parents would call him to give a lecture to a wayward child, and, when the bars closed, Abetto would often arrive to ensure everyone would get home safely and take the keys from anybody who was too drunk to drive. Everybody knew Bats, and Bats knew everybody. He was a legend, and now he was gone. 

As Danny crossed over into a parking lot and then past another set of barricades, a young cop emerged from the shadows. “You need to stay back.” He shined his flashlight in Danny’s eyes, blinding him.

“My brother is Officer Don Russo.” Danny raised his hand to shield himself from the light. “Is he here?”

“Probably.” The cop now lowered his light.

“Can you call him?” Danny asked.  “I’ve tried his cell, but he hasn’t answered.”

“My guess is that he’s busy working.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Danny said. “But it’s personal. Bats was a friend of the family. We grew up a couple blocks from here. I just want to check on my brother.”

“That’s nice of you, but I’m sure he can handle it.” His tone remained formal, but the young cop was softening.

Danny didn’t move or say anything more. He just waited, and eventually the young cop leaned into the radio that was fastened to his uniform and inquired. There were some crackles, and Danny heard a muffled response of some sort. Then, the young cop gave Danny a nod. “Wait here. Your brother is coming.”

###

Danny followed his brother Don as he went around the barrier, across the street, toward a large tree on the boulevard. When they had privacy, Danny put his hand on his brother’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, doing okay?”

Don shook his head in disbelief. “Never seen anything like this. It’s a whole different level. Everybody’s upset.” His brother looked back at the pavilion where all the cops had gathered. “It’s been building, you know?” He rattled off a clipped history of the tension between the police and public, beginning with Michael Brown, the teen shot in an inner-ring suburb of St. Louis that unleashed months of unrest, years before the death of George Floyd ignited protests around the world.

“Three cops killed in the line of duty in the past four months, but now…it’s like they declared war, you know?” Don cocked his head toward the pavilion. “There are cops over there from all over. One drove from Jeff City to be here, lights and sirens the whole way. It’s crazy, all bets are off now. We’re at war. That’s for sure.”

Danny saw tears begin to well-up in his brother’s eyes under the dim streetlight, and then his brother took a step back, running his hand through his tightly cropped hair. It was “high and tight” a look held-over from his brother’s time in the Marines, three tours in Afghanistan.

“I gotta get out of this place,” Don said, more to himself than Danny. “I can’t be the last man on a sinking ship, you know? There are cities that would respect me, where there isn’t talk of replacing cops with social workers or taking away our guns. It’s like we’re in the upside-down, here in this city, you know?” 

Danny wasn’t sure how to respond to that, so, instead, he asked, “What happened?”

His brother closed his eyes. “Assassination. One shot, back of the head, execution style.”

“Any suspects?”

Don nodded. “Two in custody. Stopped for speeding about three miles from here. One had a warrant. They searched the car, found a gun.”

“And you’re sure it was them? They admitted it?”

Don shook his head. “No, they haven’t said a----” His eyes opened wide, and then narrowed. “What’s with all the questions?”

“Nothing, just want to know.” Danny’s response was too quick and a little defensive.

His brother figured it out. “That penguin sent you.” He looked away, disgusted. “Of course, that’s it. I should’ve known, should’ve remembered.”

Even in the low light, Danny saw his brother’s face flush red and tighten. His hands balled into fists, and then Don stepped into Danny’s space. With the bullet-proof vest and steel-toed boots, Don towered over him. “I don’t know why I had assumed you came here because you cared about Bats or cared about me.” His brother shook his head.  “I forgot that’s not who you are anymore. That’s not the side you’re on.” Then Don’s hands shot forward. 

The force of his shove sent Danny back toward a large oak tree. Danny tripped on a root and stumbled, but his brother caught him, punched Danny hard in the side, then another time in the gut. He, then, let Danny crumple to the ground, gasping for breath.  

“You got your information, little brother. Now get out of here. I’ve got work to do.” Don began to walk away but stopped. Turning back, his brother warned him. “Stay away from this, Danny, far away from this.”

He was right, of course. Danny should’ve stayed away. It wouldn’t have been easy to convince Sister Mary Beth, but if Danny had taken his brother’s advice that night, nobody he loved would’ve gotten hurt and everybody would still be alive.