The Scorpion's Tale Read Online Free PDF

hell’s happened you fucking
asshole!” he screamed at the top of his lungs.
    Detective Johnston flinched from the sheer
intensity of the sound. He answered reflexively, without thought or
feeling, programmed to give a scripted answer. “Your wife and child
are both dead. So are Tony and Rosina Olivaro.” He listened for a
response, but heard nothing. A soft, wounded sound followed the
silence.
    “Mr. Capresi!” he shouted, trying to capture
Steven’s attention. “I have two officers on the way to your house.
They’ll be there in a few minutes to drive you here.” Still, there
was no response. “I need you to identify the bodies,” he said
quietly. Detective Johnston listened to himself, sounding like a
caricature of a cop in a bad movie. He hated himself for being so
callous in doing his job. Was there ever a gracious way to be the
bearer of such devastating news? The sound of the phone hitting the
floor was the only response. What he heard next made the hair stand
on the nape of his neck; a piercing, primal scream followed by
wailing.
    Detective Johnston shouted louder. “Mr.
Capresi …Steven …Pick up the phone. Talk to me!”
    At that instant, two policemen were knocking
at Steven’s door. They waited a few minutes, but Steven didn’t
answer. The officers called Detective Johnston, who was still
listening to Steven sobbing. He instructed the officers to forcibly
open the door, observe anything in plain view, and bring Steven to
him.
    Detective Johnston was not looking forward to
interrogating a man who, if innocent, just had his life ripped
apart. The detective would have to search for answers as to why
these bodies lay before him.
     
    -------------------
     
    Detective Johnston had determined this was a
professional hit linked with two bodies found in Manhattan at a
company called JTS Imports owned by Tony Olivaro. JTS was an
import-export company with suspected ties to organized crime.
    The police car stopped across from the
Olivaro house. The entire area was covered with yellow crime scene
tape, which, from the second floor of the Olivaro house, looked
like a giant spider’s web. Neighbors stood gawking from outside the
taped perimeter, secretly hoping to catch a glimpse of the carnage
inside.
    Detective Johnston stood impassively in the
driveway awaiting Steven’s arrival. He was a hulking figure at two
hundred seventy pounds on a six foot six inch frame, yet he felt
small as he watched Capresi arrive at the scene and be escorted out
of the squad car. Steven’s eyes were swollen and bloodshot; his
skin pale and drawn.
    Detective Johnston extended his hand toward
Steven, steadying his shoulders to help him with his balance.
Steven slowly turned his gaze upward and looked at the detective’s
tough and weathered face. The detective expressed his deepest
condolences.
    “Mr. Capresi, um, may I call you Steven?” He
got no response. “I’m terribly sorry. Is there anything I can do
for you?” He knew the question was absurd, but he had to establish
a rapport if he was going to get through the next few hours.
    “No thank you,” Steven muttered, returning
his blank stare to the ground as they moved under the carport and
sat in plastic beach chairs.
    Detective Johnston bent toward Steven,
placing his arm gently around his shoulder. “Listen, Steven, this
is going to be extremely difficult. Would you like to wait awhile
before we talk about the identification process? Maybe you’d like
someone else from your family to do this?”
    Steven shook his head. “This is my
responsibility. Is the morgue close by?” he asked, continuing to
stare blankly at the ground.
    The detective hadn’t yet informed Steven that
the bodies were ten feet above them. He knew he was proceeding
unconventionally, but he needed to witness Steven’s reaction to the
carnage. He needed to determine if Steven could have been involved,
and he always went with his gut instincts. “Listen Steven, before
we get there, I’ve got