Dansky called his detectives into his office. "When a person like Barbara Walters is murdered it should not end as a cold case. What have we got so far?" Dansky asked, glancing down at the files of numerous unsolved cases. He was relieved that there was nothing as heavy as the Barbara Walters case.
Detective Coppola stated that had gone through Walters's telephone book and found her parents' address in Pennsylvania. As per departmental procedure, he had sent a next-of-kin teletype message to the Allentown Police Department requesting them to make the notification. The rest of her phone book had phone numbers of family and friends. However, there were a few numbers with no names next to them.
The +7 495 area code was from Albania, but the telephone company had it as a restricted listing. Of the other three phone numbers, one had a 212 area code and the other two had 718 area codes from Bensonhurst, Brooklyn, but the telephone company also had them as restricted.
"What about the interviews with the building tenants?" Dansky asked Detective Oliphant.
"They all came up negative," Oliphant answered. "We couldn't come up with anyone acquainted with her. Several of the neighbors said that they'd see her from time to time in the hallway or laundry room. It was just a typical hello and smiles exchanged, but that was it."
"How about other buildings located within a five-block radius of the crime scene?"
"Negative, Lou. The broad was anonymous," Oliphant answered.
"What about forensics?"
Detective John Coppola answered. "They came up with a few prints; about sixteen points."
"That is more than enough for a positive I.D.," Dansky answered.
The lieutenant turned his attention to Detective John Coppola.
"Coppolo, I want you to visit the morgue. Get ahold of the medical examiner who picked up Barbara Walters' body. Tell him I want answers—the when and the how."
Coppola rolled his eyes as he entered the cutting room. "What brings you into my world?" Dr. Jack Morris, the medical examiner, asked while reaching inside the cadaver.
"Barbara Walters."
"Tell me the results so I can get the hell out of here," Coppola said, walking over so he could inspect the chest cavity.
Morris looked up and frowned. "Okay. A person or persons unknown beat the shit out of her. Barbara Walters' skull was crushed. The lower jaw was shattered. There was a massive head trauma that caused a blood clot and shock—either of which was enough to kill her."
"So what finally did the job?" Coppola asked, admiring the dexterity of the doctor's hands as they probed the various organs of the body.
"She drowned. We found water in the lungs. She was still breathing when they tossed her into the tub."
"How long was she dead?"
"The castings found on the body indicated that the maggots were in the pupa stage as evidenced by the wrap-around cocoons. That level of decomposition shows that the death happened exactly one week before her body was discovered."
"Did you come up with anything else?"
"We scraped her fingernails and found human flesh. Evidently, she put up a fight. The skin was from the faces of two male Caucasians, likely with goatees. When I get the lab report I'll send it to you directly."
The next day, January 24, 2013, at 9 a.m., Detective Marvin Oliphant and Detective John Coppolo started on the top floor of Barbara Walters' apartment building. But the results were the same—the woman was practically a ghost. After three hours on the recanvas, they were only on the 8th floor. They still had one apartment to go, 6-A. Coppola rang the pushbutton in the center of the brass peephole and stood back as the chime echoed inside the apartment. No answer. He rang again.
"May I help you?" An attractive woman in her early forties answered as she opened her apartment door. "I'm Sofia Gordon. who are you, gentlemen?"
The two detectives pulled out their shields and IDs and showed them to her. "We're detectives. There was a homicide in this building two days ago and we're investigating it," Detective Coppolo said.
"Poor Barbara. I just found out about it; she was such a wonderful person," she said.
"Did you know her?" Coppola asked.
"We were friends," she answered.
Sofia Gordon had a cozy apartment with a terrace overlooking the Brooklyn Bridge. She sat on a cushioned ottoman in front of a recliner. The detectives exchanged glances. Coppola arched his brow, indicating that he would do the questioning. Oliphant picked up the cue, nodded, and moved to the sofa across from where she was sitting.
Sofia Gordon had first met Walters in a home association meeting held every month on the first-floor management office. They had become friends. If one of them went on vacation the other would take in the other's mail. Occasionally, they would even cook for each other.
"Where did she work?" Coppola asked.
"I think she was a photographer," Sofia answered.
"A photographer," Coppolo repeated while frowning and nodding his head.
"Was there any man in her life?" Coppola asked.
"Yes, she had a boyfriend by the name of Erick," Sofia replied.
"Where does he live?" Coppola asked.
"No. I don't get into people's personal lives," Sofia answered emphatically. "All I know is he would come over to her apartment sometimes on weekends. He was a white man, probably around six feet tall and somewhere in his forties."
"Would you say Barbara was a reserved person?" Coppola asked.
"Definitely. Wait a minute, now. I remember, around a month ago, I noticed two white men with dark sunglasses. One of them was tall, maybe six foot two or three? He had salt and pepper hair and a goatee. The other man was blonde maybe a few inches shorter. He was muscular and also had a goatee." Sofia then lit a long, thin cigarette and took a long drag before continuing. "They parked in front of the building in a black limousine. They looked suspicious because they went to the 6th floor and walked up and down the corridor. When I opened my apartment I asked the blonde if I could help him but he said the two of them were from management and doing a building inspection. Strange, right?"
Detective Coppola didn't reply and continued logging everything Sofia had said into his memo book.
"Thank you for that information," Coppola said. "There is one more question that I would like to ask."
"Yes?"
"You told us that you just heard about the homicide today."
She looked at the detective and hesitated. "I was away for two weeks."
"Where did you go?"
"I was in Montreal, Canada seeing my parents. I am originally from Canada."
"Okay, thank you for your cooperation," Coppola said.
Detectives Coppolo and Oliphant returned to the detective squad and closed the door behind them.
Dansky sat back and laced his hands behind his head, listening to Coppolo tell him about their interview with Sofia Gordon.
"Did she get the limousine license plate number?" Dansky asked.
"No, Lou," Coppola said. "Another thing Sofia Gordon said was that Barbara Walters might have worked as a photographer."
"A photographer. Yikes," Dansky said with a grunt. "I wonder if she was a freelance or a newspaper photographer."
"I don't know Lou," Coppola said.
"I want you to find out if Barbara Walters was a photographer and find out the name of the company she worked for."
"Roger that," Oliphant and Coppolo said, almost in unison, and then exited the office.
"What's with the bathtub case?" Inspector Michael Cullen bellowed, sweeping into Dansky's office.
Dansky took the Walters case folder out of the file basket and handed it to him.
Inspector Michael Cullen sat down, attentively flipping through the pages. He looked up at Dansky. "Looks to me like you've got a mystery on your hands. Need any help?"
"I'll holler if I do," Dansky said.
"Bill, I understand that this isn't the right time, but in a few weeks, I'm going to do the annual evaluations of your entire squad. Try and get your paperwork in shape.
"Yes, Inspector. I will get the entire squad's annual evaluations done by the time you come back.
"Don't forget Bill."
Detective Oliphant returned to Dansky's office and closed the door behind him. "Lou, I wanted to tell you I went to the NYPD's Intelligence Division and Counter Terrorism Bureau office. I found out that the phone number from Albania belongs to the Albanian Mafia and the (212) phone number belongs to NYPD's Organized Crime Division. Both (718) phone numbers are from Bensonhurst, Brooklyn. One of them belongs to NYPD Detective Richard Vitale and the other belongs to NYPD Detective Andy Tiziano.
He wasn't surprised. Nothing surprised him anymore. Cops had been accused of drug dealing, rape, bank robbery, money laundering, extortion, counterfeiting, and loan sharking. Anything was possible.
"Oh shit! What we got here is a can of worms waiting to explode," Dansky said. "Tell you what, I'll call IAB. Sergeants Hooker and McCain there can give me an update on who the memo books belong to. Then I have to find out where these two detectives work out."
"Also, I checked with the Social Security Administration and Barbara Walters was not a photographer. She was a private investigator who worked for North American Investigations for seventeen years. This firm is located at 260 Madison Avenue suite 8105 in Manhattan," Oliphant said.
"Excellent job, Marvin, if you keep up the good work, you will be promoted to a first-grade detective soon," Dansky said.
After Bill Dansky finished praising Detective Marvin Oliphant for his excellent detective work, he called One Police Plaza desk Sergeant Ray Lucas to inquire about these two detectives. "Tiziano and Vitale," Dansky said after explaining why he needed more information on the two men.
"No, Lou, there is no listing of those detectives," the man on the other line said.
"You mean to tell me there is no listing of Detective Andy Tiziano and Detective Richard Vitale?" Lieutenant Bill Dansky shouted into the phone.
"Yes, sir, I am positive, I checked all precincts, details, and specialized units and they have no listings of those detectives. Sorry Lou"
"Thank you, Sergeant," Dansky replied. As he put the telephone back into its receiver, he took a deep breath shaking his head in disapproval.
At 9 a.m. on January 23, 2013, Sergeants Hooker and McCain from IAB gave their boss Lieutenant Manny Rodriguez the sealed property envelope containing both memo books. "Thanks, gentlemen, I will open an investigation. I will assign you to this case. Hooker, you keep training McCain. He is new and you know the ropes of IAB more than any sergeant in the bureau.
The next day Dansky called internal affairs and spoke to the lieutenant in charge, Manny Rodriguez. "Two of your sergeants came to a crime scene in Brooklyn to investigate possible police corruption," Dansky said. "They picked up two memo books belonging to two detectives."
"Yes I am aware of it," Rodriguez stated.
"Is there any chance you can pass by the 73rd precinct, to discuss this case?" Danky asked.
Rodriguez paused to look at the calendar book on his desk. "Yes. I can be there by 11 a.m."
As Rodriguez arrived at the 73rd precinct he stopped by the desks of Officer Lieutenant White and assistant desk officer Steve Bourne and introduced himself. He then explained that he had a meeting with Lieutenant Bill Dansky.
"Make a left and his office is the last one to your right," Bourne said.
As Rodriguez trudged towards Dansky's office, White mumbled, "Those IAB pricks."
Rodriguez easily walked to Dansky's office and knocked on the open door.
"How are you, Lieutenant Dansky?" Lieutenant Rodriguez asked.
"Good. Please have a seat Lieutenant Rodriguez," Dansky said. He then explained the homicide case he was working on and how he was unable to track down detectives Vitale and Tiziano.
"Are you sure about this Lou?" Rodriguez asked with a grimace.
"I am positive," Bill Dansky answered.
"Okay. Do you have a copy of the UF-49 report with all the particulars of the homicide?" Rodriguez asked.
"Yes, Lieutenant. Here on top of my desk."
After the Dansky passed him the copy of the UF-49 report, Rodriguez glanced through the pages of the UF-49 with dismay. From his right front pocket, he took out a business card and handed it to Dansky.
"Thank you for this Lou. I will open an investigation into this. It's a serious matter," Rodriguez said. "When I find out the whereabouts of these two detectives, I will call you."
"Thank you."