Hayden Jon Marshall: A Tommy Keane Novel

Prologue

Tommy Keane had been a Detective in the 53rd Precinct Detective Squad, in the Bronx, for just over two weeks when he caught his first missing person’s case.

Eight-year-old Mariana Castro disappeared from the lobby of her building on 196th Street and Valentine Avenue, sometime around 3:50 PM on a warm Wednesday afternoon in April.

The call came into the squad about the missing girl, and Keane, along with Detective Bobby O’Reilly, responded to the scene within 15 minutes of receiving the notification. Upon their arrival Sgt. Timothy McColl and Police Officer Denise Brenan informed the two detectives of the details they had received from the hysterical mother, one Idina Castro, 32, and her equally upset twelve-year-old son, Jose Castro.

The detectives climbed the stairs of the building and went to the family’s third story apartment and knocked on the door. Upon entering, Tommy immediately took note of the surroundings, as his eyes scanned the room. The apartment was immaculate -- spotless hardwood floors, and pure white walls throughout the two-bedroom apartment. Mrs. Castro motioned toward the sitting area, and Tommy sat on the edge of the black leather sofa, set against the wall of the living room.

He took note of various black framed photos of the family and grade school photos of both children on the spotless glass end tables and coffee table. There was a 43-inch Sony flat screen television directly across from the sofa, and on the side wall a large wedding photo of Idina and her husband hung below a large black and silver crucifix.

Mrs. Castro, through her panic and tears, immediately offered the detectives coffee as they sat down to interview her and her son, which both detectives graciously declined.

No ma’am, Mrs. Castro. We are fine. We are going to ask you about your daughter so we can get to work finding her as quickly as we possibly can. Okay?

Tommy and Detective O’Reilly instantly knew this was a good family, or at least that Idina Castro was an attentive mother, who kept her home and children well cared for. They learned her husband, Victor Castro, worked for UPS and was currently on his way home. He left work early as soon as he had learned his daughter was missing.

Idina sat in one of the chairs, her son Jose standing just slightly behind her. He was wearing a faded Batman t-shirt and continuously grabbed at the hem, wringing and tugging at it nervously.

When did you realize your daughter Mariana was missing, Mrs. Castro? Tommy asked.

Through her tears, she looked at Tommy and nervously answered, her hands shaking. Aye, she exclaimed, She and Jose just came home from school and they, they went downstairs to get the mail from the, from the mailbox. They get the mail from the box in the lobby most days after they come home from school.

So, Jose, you were with Mariana? Detective O'Reilly asked.

Yes, he said through his tears, but I ran up the stairs ahead of her, I don’t know why. I ran just to be, just to be stupid and be funny. I ran up the stairs while she was getting the mail… I don’t know why.

How long was she alone in the lobby? Tommy asked.

I don’t even know, maybe a minute, maybe two before I went to go to look for her… I called for her and thought she was maybe hiding under the stairs, you know to be stupid and playing stupid games, you know… I called for her, and looked for her and called for her but she didn’t answer. I went to the street and looked up and down and into the alley between the buildings, then I came back in the lobby and called for her again and told her to stop being stupid but she didn’t answer me.

Is that when you told your mother and she called the police, Jose?

Yes, I looked and looked and then got scared, like you know… like really scared. I got scared and told Mommy, he said through his tears.

We have officers and detectives looking all over the building and all over the neighborhood right now, Tommy said in as comforting a voice as he could muster.

Now, is there anything that you can think of about how she was dressed, or where she may have gone, maybe to a friend’s or a relative’s house? Does she have any friends in the building or close by in the neighborhood? Do you have any relatives close by, any place you can think of she may have gone? Tommy asked.

Aye, I don’t know…yes. She has a friend upstairs on the fourth floor, Tina, but no friends or family close…not close. Like maybe ten blocks away… but she, she, Mariana wouldn’t walk there herself… I don’t think she would ever do that. She is a good girl, and she is a home girl. She would never leave the building on her own, Idina said, still physically shaking.

Okay, well please give me all the names and places where she has, or may have, a friend or a relative. And relax, Mrs. Castro, we’re going to find Mariana, or hopefully she’ll come walking through that door any minute. That’s usually the case, dear. Hopefully she’s at a friend’s or still thinks she’s playing a joke on Jose… But we’ll find her. I promise, Tommy said. Then he thought to himself, ‘God, I hope I’m right.’

The interview went on a bit longer and a missing-persons report was filled out. Within minutes every car in the precinct and adjoining precincts had a description of little Mariana and each of them were on the lookout for her.

***

There were 32 apartments in the Castro’s building and each and every door was knocked on -- nineteen of them were answered and the occupants questioned. Most were shocked and surprised to hear that little Mariana had disappeared from their lobby, none more so than her little friend Tina’s mother on the fourth floor, who immediately became hysterical and was inconsolable for several minutes after hearing the news. Everyone in the building who knew the family repeated the same sentiment and confirmed Keane and O’Reilly’s initial feelings, that this was indeed a solid loving family who took care of their children.

The detectives and assisting patrol officers thoroughly searched the building, including the roof, basement and adjoining alleyways and backyards.

The building’s superintendent, Juan Rodriguez, gave the detectives a tenants list, which contained the names and some phone numbers of the occupants of each apartment. He also told the detectives that the Castro’s were a fine hard-working family who loved their children, and that they were liked by everyone on the block. According to Rodriguez they had lived in the building for about ten years and there had never been a problem with them. He also went on to say that there were no drugs in the building. None of that drug shit here, he emphatically repeated, I keep that shit out of this building.

Both Detectives worked well past their shift that night, interviewing as many people in the building as they were able to find. They spoke to neighbors on the block, the pizzeria and the bodega across the street, as well as every other business that was open within a two- to three-block radius of the Castro’s building, all with no luck. No one had seen Mariana or noticed anything suspicious.

When Victor Castro returned home, they also interviewed him extensively. He certainly wasn’t a suspect in their minds. Both detectives knew he was at work during Mariana’s disappearance. They also knew he adored his daughter and by all accounts was an excellent father and family man. But both men, being excellent detectives, would leave no question unasked and no rock unturned in their search for little Mariana.

***

The following day’s shift brought more of the same and greater worry for Mariana Castro’s wellbeing. Nothing had been found in the detectives’ search for this little girl. Not a single clue had shown itself to either Keane or the older, more experienced O’Reilly.

Both men went over every interview, both in their heads and with each other. They again canvassed the neighborhood. They went to Mariana’s school and spoke with her teachers and her principal, and they spoke with her friends and her school mates. But after a full day of searching, plus another several hours of overtime, Tommy Keane again had nothing to go on.

***

05:04 AM Friday Morning:

Tommy received a call on his cell phone from Juan Rodriguez, the super of Mariana’s building. He was obviously very shaken and sounded frantic on the phone. He told Tommy he needed to come to the building right away. He had just found Mariana’s lifeless body in the building’s alleyway.

Tommy instructed Mr. Rodriguez to touch nothing, to let absolutely no one enter the alley, and to tell no one what he had found. He told him that the police would arrive very soon. He then called the station and told them to send a patrol car over to secure the crime scene. Then, he called Bobby O’Reilly and told him about the call.

He headed out the door and drove about 90 miles an hour, straight from his home in Brewster, New York to the building on 196th Street and Valentine Avenue. Tommy made the trip to the Bronx in less than 40 minutes.

He arrived at the building at 5:58 AM. There, he met Sgt. Kim Myrnnanski, who stood guard over the alleyway with three other police officers from patrol. When Tommy greeted her, she said with a tear in her eye, She’s in the alley… The super found her this morning, he told me he called you. You’ll find her over there.

Sgt. Myrnnanski pointed, She’s in the trash can. Whatever fucking savage did this, put her in a trash bag and stuck her in that trash can over there.

Ahh, fuck me, Tommy replied, with gut-wrenching angst.

I put in a call to Crime Scene and the Medical Examiner already, Myrnnanski stated.

The super? Tommy asked.

I have him in the car, she replied, I didn’t want him talking to anyone before you showed up.

Good job, Sarge, he replied. Then he stepped a bit closer and asked in a lower, almost fearful tone, And the parents?

We haven’t spoken to anyone, Detective. I wanted you to handle this your way.

So, so do they know yet?

No sir, not to my knowledge.

At that time Bobby O’Reilly pulled up and got out of his car. He had also just driven straight in from his home in Pearl River, New York.

Is it her? Is it Mariana? He asked with dread, anticipating the awful answer.

I haven’t looked yet… I just got here myself, but the super said it was. And the Sergeant here says the body is here, in a trash can in the alley, Tommy replied.

Ah fuck, no, no, no, don’t tell me that! O’Reilly exclaimed.

The detectives walked the 60 or so feet down the narrow alley to where the trash from the building was stacked to go out that morning. They went up to the banged-up, grey metal can which had a black plastic garbage bag in it. The top was open and partially folded back, and inside, folded up into a tight fetal position, was the naked little battered body of Mariana Castro.

Both men stood side by side and stared. They stared for no longer than a minute, but for both men, it felt like an eternity. The only things visible at that moment were the top of Mariana’s head, the right side of her obviously beaten face, her bruised and battered bare shoulders, and the tops of her bruised knees. Neither man spoke, and neither man moved for that moment.

Keane and O’Reilly wanted to do something, but knew they couldn’t. They had to leave little Mariana exactly where she was, and exactly as she was, until Crime Scene and the Medical Examiner showed up. Both of which could take hours.

Both men silently steeled themselves in preparation for the tasks they had ahead of them. The first task was to notify the parents, who at this moment were probably in their apartment, less than 100 feet from where the detectives now stood looking at little Mariana. They would need to interview the super, and then abandon this missing person’s case in search of the answers to this new homicide case, the one which began with a trash can, in the alley they both stood in, at approximately 6:26 AM on an otherwise beautifully warm Friday morning in April.

***

O’Reilly asked, You alright, Tom?

Yep, Tommy replied in a low voice. His answer was yes, but his rigid stance and the dead pan and determined look on his face said otherwise.

I’m gonna call the Lu now and let him know what’s up, and see if we can get a couple more guys over here, O’Reilly said.

Yeah, do that. I’m gonna get the super, Juan. What do you think? We’ll go to his apartment for the interview?… And I guess, fuck, I guess we should go tell Mr. & Mrs. Castro now? Tommy asked, already regretting every minute of this day which was yet to come.

Yeah, let’s get Juan into his apartment and interview him, and let’s get a uniform up in front of the Castros’ door to make sure they stay in there until we go talk to them. Hopefully they won’t be lookin’ to leave for work anytime soon. I’d really rather we got Crime Scene done and had the body removed, if possible. Fuck, I hope those fucks get here soon, O’Reilly said.

Good thinking, Bobby, Tommy replied. Then he found Sgt. Myrnnanski and asked her, Please post a uniformed officer in front of the Castros’ door, and in the event anyone wants to leave, tell them to stay inside and wait until we arrive… Don’t tell them anything other than we are on the way and won’t be long.

Okay, got it, she replied.

***

Inside Juan Rodriguez’ apartment, his story was short and simple.

I got up this morning about 4:45. I went to do the garbage. You know, today is garbage day, so I got to pull it all out of the alley and take it out to the curb. So I drag out a couple of bags and the first two cans. Then I try to drag the third can but can’t. I say, ‘Damn, this one is heavy.’ So I, then I, I opened the bag. His tears began to flow. I see her…that beautiful girl, I see her, I see her… Then I try to be strong and I call your number right away, Detective…right away. I don’t touch nothing else. I don’t tell no one, not a soul and I stand here in the alley till those police show up…and no one came in until I show those cops there who came…that woman Sergeant and her partner that are there now. That’s it, nobody else, no one.

You did good, Juan. You did real good. We can’t thank you enough for your help, Tommy said in a sympathetic voice. You know, we’re going to have to ask you a lot more questions today, but we have so many things to do first. So I’d like to ask you to stay right here at home, to please just sit tight, talk to no one about this -- not your family, no friends, no phone calls until we get back to you. Can I ask you to do that for us, just hang tight for a couple hours?

Yes, anything, anything you need. Anything you want from me, Detective, I will do anything, Juan replied, as he began to tear up again.

There was a knock on the door.

O’Reilly answered it and a Patrol Officer said, in a whisper, Crime Scene is here.

Thanks, pal, O’Reilly replied. Tommy…Crime Scene is outside.

Tommy gave the super a squeeze on his shoulder and exited the apartment. He and O’Reilly stepped out of the building and met with the crime scene team. They quickly gave a synopsis of what they knew, as the Crime Scene Investigators got started with the photographing, measuring, and searching for forensic evidence. They quickly dusted the trash can for fingerprints then nodded to the detectives that they could remove Mariana’s body. They tried to pull her out by the trash bag, which gave way and tore due to the weight of the body. Tommy tightened his lips, curling them in on themselves, again trying to steel himself to the situation at hand.

As Tommy’s heart broke at the sight of little Mariana, he gently placed his hands under Mariana’s arms, and with the help of one the crime scene detectives, who put his hands behind her knees, they pulled her little limp body from the can, the bag still wrapped around her. They carefully placed her on a sheet that had been laid out for her on the warm concrete sidewalk of the alley.

She’s limp, the Crime Scene Detective said, I’m going to guess she’s been dead for more than a day, but you gotta wait for the M.E. to tell you that.

Tommy and Bobby O’Reilly stood silent as the photographer took his photos, then they cut and removed the plastic bag from around her body.

Fucking motherfuckers! The Crime Scene Officer exclaimed.

Marianas small body lay in front of the five men