“None of these mob types ever want to talk.” Fitz rolled his eyes. “According to what Ronan said, Sal is ninety-three years old. Even if he told us anything incriminating, it’s not likely the case would get anywhere.” He parked the car in front of the house and climbed out.
The front door was jerked open before anyone could ring the bell. “Warrant!” a man with his hand out asked. He sounded to Ronan like the man who’d answered the gate buzzer.
“Holy shit! I know you!” Ronan said when he recognized the man who’d opened the door. “Michael Martin Murphy. Triple M.” Standing before Ronan was his high school bully. His dark hair was threaded with silver and he looked like he’d gained about seventy pounds since graduation, probably a combination of corned beef and lasagna. “Ronan O’Mara from Sacred Heart High School. Small fucking world, huh?”
“What the fuck?” Triple M looked Ronan up and down. “Never saw you as a cop. I still owe you for that bullshit you pulled in high school. Half the guys we graduated with still think I suck dick.”
Fitzgibbon handed over the warrant, obviously having enough of Ronan and Michael’s high school reunion.
“Cold Case unit?” the man said, sounding surprised.
“We need ten minutes of Mr. Marino’s time. We’re not here to arrest or question him. You have my word.” Fitz flashed his captain’s shield. “We have information about his daughter.”
“He’s very weak and cannot handle a lot of excitement,” a second man said, as he joined the group.
“We understand,” Fitz said. “Who are you?”
“Alex Marino, Sal’s grandson.”
“Grandson?” Fitz asked, sounding surprised. “I thought Maria was his only child.”
“My aunt was his only child with hisfirstwife. Sal remarried when Maria was in her teens and had three sons. My father, Guiseppe, is the oldest.”
Ronan hadn’t found any information about a second Marino marriage. “Are you close with your aunt?”
Alex stopped short, seeming to size Ronan up. “I am, but Sal is not. She cut him off. Do not upset him by speaking about Maria if she does not want to see him.” He led them down the hall to a room off the kitchen, knocking once on the door and then popping his head inside. “You’ve got ten minutes.”
Ronan smelled the room before he entered. It was a combination of bleach, canned pine-scented aerosol, and imminent human death. Fat Sal had one foot in the grave and the other was teetering on the edge. “Sal, my name is Ronan O’Mara. We’re with the Salem Police’s Cold Case Unit.”
“Cops?” the old man wheezed. “Got nothing to say to you.”
Ronan had expected as much. “We aren’t here to question you about a case. We need to talk to you about Maria.”
“Maria?” Sal asked. “Is she here? Did you bring her?” Sal reached out his bruised and withered hand.
Ten stepped forward, taking his hand. “No, she’s not here. Your daughter had a fall a few weeks ago and she’s in a rehab center after surgery.”
“She always was a clumsy girl. Had all the grace of a baby deer on the ice.” Sal grinned. “Why does the cold team need to talk to me about my daughter?”
Ten turned to Ronan, who nodded. “After the fall, Maria’s injuries were severe enough that she needs to move into an assisted living facility. Her great-niece and nephews were packing up the house when they made a disturbing discovery.”
“Which was?” Sal asked, sounding guarded.
“A frozen human head,” Ten said gently.
Sal didn’t seem surprised at the revelation, nor did he offer information about the remains.
“We’re trying to find out who the man was, so that his remains can be returned to his family. He looked to be in his early twenties and had a John Travolta-style hairdo.”
“Can’t help you, boys.” Sal reached for a glass of water that he wasn’t able to pick up.
Jude swiftly moved in to help. After the old man had a few sips through the straw, Jude grinned at him. “Why’d people call you Fat Sal?”
Sal let out a happy laugh. “Because I was skinny as a rail. I ate like there was no tomorrow but never put on weight. My mother was beside herself, thinking she was a failure for not having a fat, happy, Italian son.”
“I love nicknames like that. My friends call me an asshole because I’m beloved!” Jude grinned brightly.
“Sure they do,” Sal muttered, causing Fitzgibbon to snort.
