Fools Rest In Pieces

Mrs. Marsha Egeth gave her wristwatch a cursory glance. Ten minutes past 9.00 a.m. She rounded a corner and started down Bridge Street in her 1988 Ford Mustang. She drove at a sedate speed for 5 minutes, humming Whitney Houston's tune I Wanna Dance with Somebody that wafted from the music player in the dashboard. A black trash bag was leaning at the corner of Water Street when she swung her automobile across the sidewalk. "Damn!" She muttered an expletive. "No more summonses, please. In the past month, I have already received four from the Sanitary Department.

I'll move that bag right away and put it somewhere else." She then personally opened the gate to her parking area, drove her car in, and parked it. She hurriedly secured the gate and strode over to the black bag. She made a quick grab for the bag, but quickly withdrew her hand. She suddenly froze in shock as bloody liquid oozed out of the bag's corner as she felt a tingling feeling travel down her spine. She stood there for some time, contemplating. She quickly called 911 after running to her workplace in the steel industry building next to the parking lot. She then descended and waited while standing near the trash bag.

She pointed out the trash bags to the two police officers as they arrived on the site while she was still waiting. When the officers opened the bag, they found that it was filled with human body parts.

Freeman yelled, "Officer Bay," one of the officers went by that name. "We can't handle this one alone. Let's send the patrol supervisor to the location right away."

Officer Bay answered the Supervisor with "All right." The detective team of the 84th Precinct was summoned as soon as the supervisor spoke up, and they swiftly came, cordoned off of the place and started processing the scene and the body pieces discovered in the waste bags.

* * *

Victor Oliver, who worked at Champion Steel Company in Brooklyn at 202 Plymouth Street, had just gotten his bonus salary and had promised his girlfriend a special treat at MacDonald's that night. As a result, he had his Buick meticulously detailed at the car wash. In front of #195 Plymouth Street, he parked the vehicle. His phone rang when he was about two or three steps away from the building. He spotted several flies and bees swarming around a black plastic waste bag that was next to a green dumpster as he answered the phone. He spoke into the mouthpiece, "I'll call you back in a moment," and then hung up after giving the bag a good long look. He was already aware that the first bag had been found.

In order to speak with the police officers gathered there, he walked across Plymouth Street toward Water and Bridge Streets. He was addressed by Detective Wilson of the 84th Precinct (Police Detective Unit) in Brooklyn. The bag was pointed out to the police investigator by Mr. Oliver as the two men quickly approached the second trash location. When Detective Wilson looked inside the bag, he discovered more human body parts. Other police officers were soon called to his assistance, and they immediately began examining the scene and the body parts.

* * *

Raymond Steehle, a transit police officer assigned to the York Street subway station between York and Jay Streets, was standing on the escalator when, at precisely 18.00 hours, a well-dressed black man of about 30 years age, standing at 5 feet 9 inches tall, and donning two wandering, eerily large eyes approached him. He had clean-shaven cheeks set over a square jaw. Officer Steehle noted his apparent swagger and minor hesitancy when lifting and planting each foot as he drew near. The individual claimed to live on Bridge Street and had seen the female body parts being revealed earlier that day. According to Officer Steehle, he also observed it.

The man whimpered, "Come with me. I believe I have found another bag,"

The eyes of Officer Steehle suddenly opened wide.

"Oh where this time?" He muttered.

"Same location."

"Awww!" Officer Steehle followed him right away.

The black man remarked, "I spotted a brown plastic garbage can with several black garbage bags in it. I observed it while both of us were walking down Bridge Street. And I saw something that resembled human fresh when I glanced through a tear in the sack.

"Oh no!" Is there no hope of escaping this nightmare?" Officer Steehle shrieked, his excitement visible on his face.

The group arrived at their location in the interim, and the well-dressed black man pointed out the garbage can before quickly vanishing. Officer Steehle had obviously forgotten to ask for his informant's name and address in the midst of his excitement.

* * *

Det. Kenneth Wilson of the 84th Precinct Detective Squad was signaled by Officer Bay of the 84th Precinct of the New York City Police Department and arrived at 50 Bridge Street at 09.55 hours. Det. Wilson was a tall, powerful police detective who would do whatever it took to solve a murder. He had long, melancholy face hidden by carefully styled silvery, curly hair. His hazel eyes were placed low within their sockets and were beady, close-set, and penetrating. He hardly ever seemed to blink. He now had a menacing, savage appearance that could compel submission. About this detective, there was a general aura of uneasy dark curiosity, with underlying affable decency fused to outward arrogance.

He noticed and examined the plastic garbage bag holding the human body pieces, and then reported his discovery to the Crime Scene Unit. Det. James Sullivan from the Brooklyn Crime Area Unit arrived at Water and Bridge Streets at 11.20 a.m. to examine the scene. Sullivan and his partner took numerous pictures of the scene under Crime Scene Run Number 90/2610. A thigh, a lower right leg with a foot, a lower left leg with a foot, and right and left breasts were among the five body parts they discovered in the first bag. In the bag, they also discovered a bloody towel, a sock, and a black bra cup.

After that, Det. Sullivan relocated to 195 Plymouth Street in Brooklyn. Like before, he took several pictures of the bag and what was inside. He discovered a thigh, right and left arms that had both been stripped of their hands, and a bag.

The third crime scene was the last to be visited by the Crime Scene team. Det. Sullivan discovered a human torso after taking pictures of the area, the bag, and its contents. All told, the body was missing the two hands, the head, and much of the neck.

Now, whose bodily parts were those? How would one be able to identify the owner of a body part lacking hands and a head?

The body parts were autopsied in the Kings County Morgue under case number K90/7058 from the Office of the Chief Medical Examiner, Dr. Michael French. All of the components, according to Dr. French, are from the same individual. According to him, the suspect was a white female over 50, between the heights of 5-foot-6 and 5-foot-7, and weighing about 195 pounds. The dismemberment happened after death; the doctor determined as a matter of fact. He discovered two 12-inch abdominal wounds. He believed that the hands and legs had been cut using a band saw, and that the arms' shoulders and hips had been cut with sharp implements like a carving knife and a hacksaw. His judgment was based on the marks left on the bones and flesh.

Det. Wilson received word from the police station that a woman had observed Joey, the manager of a courier service at 50 Bridge Street, handling a black rubbish bag at around 6:00 that morning. Det. Wilson then requested to speak with Joey in front of the receptionist's desk at 13:05 that day. Det. Wilson started to fill out the form that the receptionist had provided him when she punched the intercom button and called her manager. He requested the receptionist to usher the guest in after a brief delay brought on by some question-and-answer sessions. The front desk agent opened the door gently and made room for Det. Wilson. Det. Wilson entered the office with panache. Their eyes brushed as the manager looked up from his notebook. The front desk agent locked the door after her. Det. Wilson grinned broadly as the manager motioned for him to take a seat. Det. Wilson sat down with style and kept grinning as he took in the office's opulent décor and impeccable taste.

Det. Wilson nodded in agreement, "This is my idea of an office." But I don't think a luxury like this is appropriate for individuals like myself who spend almost the entire day looking into cases. My misfortune, I admit. I'll have to put up with it till I retire. His grin turned into full-throated laughter. His host also laughed too.

The green parrot at the manager's left started imitating Det. Wilson at this moment.

She was immediately addressed by the manager. Keep your mouth shut and never interrupt others, please.

"Okay," the parrot replied.

"Bah!" Det. Wilson exclaimed while sighing. He struggled to keep his dismay to himself. He sighed once more after realizing he was losing control.

"I'm Det. Wilson, Kenneth Wilson of the 84th Precinct Detective Squad," he introduced himself. "I take it you're Joey?" And he displayed his ID card.

"I'm Joseph Wyatt, or Joey."

"You oversee Galactic Express, right?"

"Right."

"I'm sure you've seen some odd police movements and activities in your neighborhood today. And without a doubt, you have heard or seen something about the dismembered body pieces in a waste bag.

Joey halted his writing.

His heart skipped a beat as he said, "Yes, I heard about it and I also saw the bag."

Det. Wilson grinned mischievously and said, "I'm looking into the garbage bag case," which made Joey's pulse beat like a gyroscope.

He was a middle-aged man with a scar on his left temple and on his forehead. He had a protruding jaw and a beard that was pencil-lined. He was so completely white that it was almost never possible for him to hide his emotions. His face still went red.

I stopped by to see whether you had heard or seen anything.

Joey's skin brightened, and the redness vanished entirely.

Det. Wilson kept a tight eye on him.

For around twenty seconds, Joey remained silent. He then extended his hand to get his pack of cigarettes. He lighted one and handed the packet to his visitor. After recognizing the Camels, Det. Wilson lighted one.

For a brief period, both men smoked in silence. Joey sighed, and a deep scowl formed between his bushy brows.

He dared to say, "To be honest, I was going to say I never saw or touched that bag. But after a while, I realized it was a pointless resistance. I decided to put all of my cards on the table.

Det. Wilson grinned and gave a jubilant nod. Go ahead, he beckoned.

Joey rubbed his throat before proceeding quietly. "I personally unlocked our gate this morning so that one of our vans could bring in some supplies from our headquarters. As I was doing this, I noticed a black trash bag in front of the gate. I was furious. Our business was recently penalized for improperly disposing of waste. I was determined not to pay any additional fines as a result. The garbage had to be dragged to the intersection of Water and Bridge Streets."

"Was there blood leaking from the bag? Detective Wilson asked."

"I'm not sure. Maybe I was too enraged to pay attention. I did, however, find out later that the bag I removed from the scene contained human remains. Can you even begin to comprehend the anguish and utter contempt I began to feel?"

"At the time, did you see anyone or notice anything?"

"Not especially. Even though I later saw some blood smears on the location where I took the bag out. Additionally, where I had dragged the bag, there were some blood stains on the sidewalk."

Det. Wilson growled, "My men already found the blood stains. Are you aware that if you had attempted to lie, you would have been in some sort of trouble? I'm working under a tipoff."

Det. Wilson grinned before rising. Joey also grinned.

He admitted, "I could never have lied about it. I always come clean, thanks to my natural lie detector."

"I have great faith in you. I'll head out right away. I might come back to see you on another occasion."

Joey exclaimed, "You're always welcome here," and he led the man to the door.

Det. Wilson put a lot of time and effort into going through the missing-person files. He got in touch with the Missing Persons Bureau of the New York City Police Department to see if any white females with the general height, weight, and age description of his victim had been reported missing in New York City either just before or just after the body parts were discovered, but the chances seemed remote without fingerprints or a face. He certainly spent the following few days searching Vinegar Hill for hints. Nobody recalled anything unusual that they saw or heard.

Then, as if by magic, an unstoppable lead struck. He received a call from the 52nd PCT informing him that two ladies who had lately been reported missing and fit the basic description of his victim were Lillian Schaefer, age 61, of Queens, and Mary Jordan, age 61, of the Bronx. Det. Wilson decided on Mary Jordan because her description matched that of his victim despite Schaefer's height and weight being drastically different from that of his victim. The detective in charge of looking into Mary Jordan's disappearance was then summoned, and he requested that he perform a brief check on Mary Jordan.

During this investigation, it was found that Mary Jordan maintained a real estate company in the Bronx at 3070 Bainbridge Avenue and had assisted Aleksa Vidic and Vitro Matic in a child custody dispute by translating in court. The police discovered she had a brother named Alesandro, who was then a representative of an American corporation in Europe, and a sister named Amanda, who lived in Chicago, despite the fact that her style of life suggested she had no known relatives. Amanda was approached by the police. So she got in touch with Alesandro.

* * *

At 10.00 a.m., Det. Wilson set up a meeting with Amanda, Victoria Leith, and himself at Victoria Leith's residence. Johnson Edmond, who identified himself as Amanda's son, joined them. A shared coffee table was positioned between two white seating pieces in this tidy living room that were only for the comfort of four. As a result of window views, the furniture's hue imitates that of the walls. Accent cushions on the seating pieces were highlighted by an area rug with a pretty pattern. Flickering fireplace flames and window-framed vistas took center stage, and they served as the cue for the big standing TV that was mounted above the fireplace and extended from wall to wall.

On the table, Victoria set a pot of boiling coffee and poured herself a cup. Det. Wilson introduced himself as she took a seat next to the others.

You understand why we are here. He took a mouthful of coffee and swallowed. "There is a lot we need to do right away to solve this riddle, crack this case, and find the murderer before it's too late. I need any and all information you can give me about this situation. Nothing is too trivial to know. Mary's missing-person report was created by you, Mrs. Leith. What kind of connection did you have with her?"

"She was one of my closest friends," Mrs. Leith lamented. Det. Wilson pulled out his journal and started taking notes.

"When did you discover she was missing, exactly?"

The 17th of September. My acquaintance and her neighbor called me to let me know that Mary hadn't been seen since September 14th. Mary was my closest pal. I contacted Lola, a resident of the floor above Mary's store, and she confirmed that Mary didn't open on Friday, the 14th. She usually opened for business on business days, so it was unusual. Additionally, Lola claimed that Mary and she had a scheduled business meeting on that day. He continued by saying that Mary missed several other people's appointments in addition to their own, so she didn't only miss their appointment."

"What more did Mary's neighbor whom you mentioned tell you?"

"Nothing else she said was really significant. We are all aware of Mary's daily ritual of taking her dogs for three walks. She stated that she had previously advised her, just like she had done with her pals that she should be searched for if ever she wasn't seen any day walking the dogs. "

'Never would I allow my dogs to go hungry.' The neighbor phoned me when Mary skipped her morning stroll and the dog began to scream.

Det. Wilson nodded while grinning.

He remarked, "This is very considerate of her."

"What else did you accomplish?"

"I reasoned that Mary might perhaps still be in the area. So I organized a gathering of her friends so we could look around the area for her 1989 Plymouth Voyager. On September 18, we practically spent the entire day doing this, but to no avail. On the 19th, I believed that going to the police and filing a report was my only remaining alternative. I made the report there after traveling to the 52nd PCT."

"Now there's a problem, sighed Det. Wilson. There must be a link between Mary and those physical components. The victim's identity is blatantly unknown without her head and hands. And how can we track down the murderer if we don't know who the victim is? Everything we do will be completely pointless and meaningless."

"Mary shattered her left ankle two years ago," Amanda said. "Additionally, she underwent surgery to remove a cyst from her thigh ten years earlier. She was probably seen at Montefiore Hospital, I think."

"Oh, how lovely! Det. Wilson gurgled stealthily. This meeting is not at all a waste of time. Everyone is appreciated for their input. I'll give you updates as the investigations progress."

Det. Wilson hurried to the Bronx, New York's Montefiore Hospital after leaving the conference. He left his car parked in the hospital's lot and went to the front desk. He was shown to the registrar at the front desk, who took him to the hospital records division after a protracted conversation with him. Mary's medical file was located after a search by the registrar and record keeper. According to Mary's medical history, she previously underwent surgery to remove a cyst from her left thigh, the same leg whose ankle had been broken two years prior. Det. Wilson got copies of the x-ray images used to treat Mary Jordan's broken left leg as well as the medical records used to document her surgical removal of a benign cyst.

Dr. French at the Kings County Morgue received the films and documents from Det. Wilson. Mary's left leg needed a second x-ray, so Dr. French returned to the mortuary. Dr. Jonathan Arden, the director of the Kings County Morgue, and he compared the new x-rays to the ones Det. Wilson had brought from Montefiore Hospital when he reappeared with them. Both Dr. French and Dr. Jonathan Arden came to the same safe conclusion that the body parts found in the different garbage bags on that fateful day from different locations in the Bronx were those of Mary Beal based on the location and shape of the fracture as well as the distinctive six-inch long scar on her leg from the removal of a cyst. Det. Wilson was then brought down to the mortuary where Dr. French showed him the six-inch scar where the cyst had been removed from Mary's left leg.

* * *

Mary told Sofija, Vitro's sister, "Vitro makes me very sad. Nobody ever hurt me so badly in my life."

"Mary, calm down. This time, what is it?" Sofija queried.

"Why won't your brother repay the loan? Is he abusing me in some way? Is he mistaking my kindness and compassion for a sign of weakness?" Mary groaned. "And more importantly, why has he started drinking these days? Does he have anything to conceal from me?"

"I've always warned you about my brother, Mary, haven't I? My brother is enigmatic and erratic; a man with a volatile temperament who once flung a woman outside from the fifth story! Such a man is inappropriate for you. He'll eliminate you. I've always been curious about your opinion on him. Break things off if he hurts you. Period! Sue him and get your money back."

By 00.15 that morning, Mary and Nadja departed Sofija's home. Prior to heading to her own house, she was supposed to drive Nadja home. The dirty one, Mary thought, as Nadja sat next to her in the front seat.

Nadja's only emotion toward Mary was envy. She was pondering the woman who owned this Voyager, owned her own home, owned a real estate company, and worked as a court translator in addition to speaking Serbo-Croatian, English, and four other languages. She even lent Vitro $10,000, which he used to purchase our own home! If only I were half as good as she was! She was making plans.

Nadja remarked in Sabo-Croatian, "Mary, there's something I want to discuss with you."

Mary continued, "Yes, darling," looking startled. Mary called everyone darling. I'm interested in hearing whatever you have to say.

"Can we have a private conversation in your home? But in truth, I'm starving right now.

"Anything you want, darling," Mary said. She then took her vehicle to a neighboring restaurant, where she placed an order for roasted sweet potato, Kale, and black bean enchiladas, while Nadja placed an order for crock-pot garlic parmesan potatoes. Mary paid the bill by 00.40 hours, and they immediately drove to her home on East Moshulu Parkway North.

While Mary was making coffee, Nadja sat in the living room. Mary must be worth millions of dollars, Nadja reasoned after mentally weighing Mary's living room. Mary turned on the electric fireplace and the massive TV to the left of the fireplace as Nadja began to sip her coffee. Mary left the room and went to the restroom.

She wore a nightgown and came out of her bedroom invigorated after approximately 20 minutes.

"Nadja, you may now go take a shower and change," she said. "My bedroom is beyond that door over there, next to the restroom. Put on something that makes you feel comfortable."

"Thank you," Nadja said before stumbling into the restroom.

She sipped more coffee before entering her wet bar and preparing some drinks.

She drank and changed the TV to a different station just in time to see the late episode of her favorite soap opera, Another Life.

She soon found herself in the drama's romantic scene. She was so engrossed in her laughter and the joy and calm radiating from her face that she failed to notice Nadja, who was sitting next to her and smiling like an angel at her while wearing her red pajamas. She didn't begin until Nadja spoke to her in Serbo-Croatian and asked about the drama. She swore to herself that Nadja was a character she would never be able to comprehend. She was deep, secretive, and quiet, with soft manners. Without being talked to, she would never speak. She had never heard her talk without being spoken to first, until today. She appeared shabby, sluttish, and grumpy at times, and clean, lovely, and good-natured at other times, as she did this evening.

She didn't smile often, but when she did, she shone with the perfection of heavenly beauty. People like her, who teetered between the heavenly and the infernal extremes of passion, might be unpredictable and hence potentially dangerous. Nadja was a Muslim woman from Albania who had recently wedded Vitro Matic, a Muslim acquaintance of Mary's who ran a cab company. Mary first met Vitro when she served as the court interpreter in a child custody dispute between Vitro and Aleksa, a former spouse of Vitro's. Vitro and Nadja came from Montenegro.

To be fair, Nadja was a tall, slim, and stunning woman with an oval face, wide-set grey eyes, a narrow, long, straight nose, and flowing lips. Her long, curly, dark hair was usually carelessly pulled back from her shoulders and was typically covered by her hijab, but not today. Whether she decided to wear a hijab or burka at any given time, it made a huge difference to how she looked and behaved.

Mary called her darling and attempted a smile before telling her about the drama. "I have always secretly admired you," Nadja concluded. You're a really cheerful, outgoing, and friendly woman. You're warm and extremely accomplished. We weren't used to getting along well, but now we can be friends. I want to socialize with you, be friends with you, and act honorably like you.

Mary gave her a bear hug and a kiss on the head, saying, "Oh, darling, "you amaze me. Why not? I had no idea you're such an angel. I used to think of you as a distant, irascible, reserved, and taciturn woman – anything, but amiable and gregarious. I agree to be your friend. What a totally unexpected change is here! Mary cried, "I feared we'd never get along.

I really like and admire you, Nadja chuckled. That, in my opinion, explains the situation. I believe I too grew weary of acting rudely while I watched you celebrate with Sofija. I reasoned, 'Why not me?' I just need to get rid of my antisocial side."

"Ha ha!" Mary chuckled. Isn't that how you are?

Pointing to Mary's glass, Nadja mumbled, "I want to drink."

She was shown to the wet bar by Mary, who pointed out her preferred drinks. She then mixed a strong drink for herself and her pal.

Nadja thought, "I'm not so good at strong drinks, but I want to learn." She drank a bit.

The telephone rang.

Mary quickly reached the stand and raised the receiver.

"How are you doing, mom?" She said in the mouthpiece.

"Over here, everything is fine. How are you, my love?" It was Mrs. Emilia Erikson, her mother.

"I'm good. Everything is alright, the usual things. Nothing has altered. How are Johnny and Lena?"

Johnny has gone to work, Lena back to school. Do you call Laura? How is she?" Mrs. Erikson asked.

"Mom, I'm sure she's alright. She rarely returns my calls and never calls. She believes she can take care of herself now that she is a big girl. You shouldn't be concerned about her in any way," Mary assured her.

"Oh, today's girls should exercise extreme caution! Mrs. Erikson bemoaned. "Laura shouldn't continue in this manner. Her recklessness makes me sad. I hope she changes for the better."

"Hopefully she does. As a mother, I'll always try my utmost for her. I'm afraid there won't be much I can do if she rejects me again. You are aware of my love for her."

"Yes, I do. Don't give up on her, though. Keep up your prayers for her. I'll continue to pray for all my children. Frank sent me some money last week. He's doing extremely well. I hope you guys still get along well."

"Yes, mom, we talk quite a lot. He says he'll visit next summer."

"Excellent! He told you that? I can't wait to have all of you come together again!"

"Mom, I hope you still take your medications as directed and get the recommended amount of sleep? Don't get yourself worked up again, please. Stop worrying about us. We're fine, ok."

"O.K. I'll remember that. Have a good night."

"Good night." Mary hung up.

Mary returned and smiled. "That was my mother. Good, go ahead and drink if you feel like it. You can drink as much as you want and go to bed because we're at home.

Nadja nodded. "We have every reason to be friends," she said, after taking a swig.

Mary leaned back, made an interjection, and looked her over.

"Yes, I have something that you really desire, and you also have something that I need," Nadja said. She couldn't believe she said it. She was relishing her Dutch courage. "Any justification why we shouldn't be the closest of friends?"

"Ugh!" Mary sensed blackmail. She thought, as her eyes widened and her nerves jumped, "She has something I want? Was she possibly being serious?"

Mary took two long draughts to soothe her tense nerves. She shrugged and seemed to concentrate on the TV show she was watching. You also have something that I need. How would that work?

After finishing her drink, Nadja strutted up to the wine cabinet to get a new one. She said, "I know you and Vitro love each other," as she stumbled back. "Therefore, it's time for you two to quit playing hide and seek like some bunch school children."

Mary was clearly agitated.

"How did you find out?"

"Hahaha!" Nadja chuckled. I frequently secretly listened to your phone chats.

"I got enchanted with the way you talk and think you're someone worth being intimate with. To be sure, you're not away from the person I imagined you were. I like to know everything about people when I'm interested in them," Nadja remarked hesitantly, her eyes dour.

Mary apologized, "Here we are now, but to say we adore each other is not totally accurate. I enjoy him. That's given. Vitro, however, adores anything that is dressed in a skirt or a blouse. That's the difference. I only enjoy him in bed."

They both giggled.

"We are a Muslim family, Nadja reminded Mary. Muslim ladies are considerate to other female family members. We can halt all of his promiscuity and make him adore only us if you and I work together."

Do you believe that's possible? To be honest, I don't believe Vitro's promiscuity can be reined. Any man who womanizes like Vitro, without the least compunction, cannot be controlled."

"It's entirely feasible, Sadija stated. He loves you, I know, and wants to win your favor. He adores every aspect of you, but he's not sure how to get you to understand it. We discuss you frequently at home."

"Hmmm. Do you really think that? Why then does he not want to repay the loan I gave to him? Why does he run around with women so much, knowing that I hate it? Have you not noticed that he drinks excessively these days?"

"I believe that you should get closer because of this. The door is now completely open."

"Thanks. But I'm not promising anything. I'll only go with you and enjoy myself and then see how it goes. That all I can promise you now."

"You'll leave your car in our garage and spend the day with us after you drive me home in the morning. You should be willing to put your new relationship ahead of your day's work. Every minute is worthwhile."

"What?" Mary yelled in alarm. "Darling, you are aware that your request borders on absurdity and complete madness, right? I must go to work. I have a lot of appointments that cannot be passed up. In any event, I'll let you know my thoughts later this morning, what and what I'll be able to do. Is that all right?"

"It's okay, Nadja said with a smile. Mary gave her a kiss. She thought, "I have nothing but respect for this woman, and I won't call her dirty any longer."

* * *

When Mary backed her Voyager out of the garage, she realized one of her windows wasn't latched. "Darling, did you really believe a busy woman like me would be able to spend the whole working day with you guys?" she questioned Nadja. This is really naughty of me. In the past 20 years, I have never left my house or missed a day of work. I have a long list of appointments today, so I'm really busy. You can see that I have left my window open and that I am missing my spectacles and meds. Well, the fact that I'm doing this is all because you. In all honesty, I'll not be able to spend more than 2 hours with you. I'll accompany you upstairs, but I want to get to work before 10 a.m. I've re-scheduled two appoints.

Nadja laughed joyously, her eyes sparkling.

After backing out of the driveway and into Pelham Parkway, Mary trod on the gas. A burka-clad lady raced up to the car and started banging on the roof with a heavy stick while screaming, "Fuck you, asshole! Fuck you asshole!"

"What?" Mary yelled as she peered through the window. "Are you insane?" She quickly added pressure on the gas pedal and the Voyager surged forward, out of the reach of the crackpot.

"Who's that? Do you know her?" Mary screamed.

"Aleksa, Vitro's ex-wife. She always believes that I hire ladies for Vitro and that I am the reason he hasn't re-married her in spite of all her efforts."

"Awww..!" Mary screamed. "I feel bad for the poor lady. Why is she here this early?"

"I have no idea. In a way, I also feel bad for her. But I won't put up with her threats any longer. I believe she went too far this time. I'll inform the 49th PCT about her.

* * *

Det. Wilson responded to 220 E. 201 Street in the Bronx after receiving a report of an order of protection violation in the 49th PCT. There didn't seem to be anyone home when he got there. However, he rang the doorbell several times. When nobody answered, he moved to the neighbor's house at 218 E. 201 and pressed the doorbell. A man who introduced himself as Sammy Chuna answered the door and let him in.

"Are you familiar with the neighbors at 220?"

"Yes, I do know them, Chuna said."

They left a few weeks ago.

Do you recognize them by name?

"Joe is the name of the man. The name of the wife sounds like Nadije."

Then Det. Wilson produced some images of Mary Jordan, Vitro, Nadja, and Aleksa Matic. Chuna recognized the image of Vitro, the man he called Joe, as the home's owner right away. The images of Aleksa or Nadja didn't look familiar to him. However, he was able to identify Mary Jordan in the picture as the broker who had assisted him in finding his own house.

Chuna acknowledged, "I've also seen Mary enter Joe's residence a few times."

"How long have you known Joe?" demanded Det. Wilson.

"While Joe purchased the other apartment and moved in with his wife in July of 1990, I purchased my home and moved into it in June of that year."

"When was the last time you saw them?"

"A couple of weeks ago. Joe and his wife recently relocated. It's not like they moved out or something. It appears as though they simply left for a store and never returned."

Det Wilson showed Chunna a calendar he brought out of his briefcase. He enquired if he could be more explicit about when he last saw Joe. Joe picked up the calendar and started reading it. He then had an epiphany.

He exclaimed, "I remember it now vividly. "On Saturday, September 15, my son celebrated his birthday. I wanted to pull jokes on him. Around 22:00, I recall sneaking into my backyard to hide his birthday present. In his own backyard, I saw Joe. He greeted me with "Hello!" and we chatted briefly.

"Have you ever observed any movements inside or outside of his home since then?"

"A few days ago, my door was pounded on. I let a black man in by opening the door. He warned me that there would be some noise since the flooring at 220 E. 201 Street was going to be sanded," Chuna said.

"Did anyone notice the name of the business that completed the work?"

Chuna's wife jumped in, saying, "Yes."

I noticed a white van with "NEW YORK FLOOR" written in either blue or black letters on the side of the vehicle. I don't remember what else came after the word FLOOR, she said stutteringly.

Det. Wilson's investigation had evolved into a search for Vitro by the end of September. Chunna claimed to have last seen him last on September 15. About that time, he and his wife Nadja went to the store and never came back. That period also, Vitro hired a construction foreman from the Bronx to sand and refinish the floors in his home. The contractor demanded the living room furniture as payment when the job was finished and there was still a balance due because Vitro and Nadja had left.

Early in the 1970s, Vitro Matic, an Albanian Muslim butcher from Montenegro, immigrated to the United States. He drove a taxi all day and all night. He was married and had numerous wives, ex-wife, and girlfriends who were all concealed around New York. He was small and stocky, powerful and animated, and only had a few wisps of hair below each ear. His skull was substantially bald in the middle. Despite his calm demeanor, he was a man of unstable temperament. He did not always intend to be a violent man, though.

He had a spring-like gait and had a deep, smooth, liquid baritone that attracted different degrees of attention from individuals. Without turning around to see who was speaking, you couldn't hear him.

He had animal tendencies that he had battled to control all his life. Although he was a sexual pervert, he almost always suppressed that trait and infrequently let it come to the fore. He had an ethereal air of sexual energy about him. He was irresistible because he was a sexually active man who was virtually a stallion. Or perhaps, women became captivated and attracted. Women adored him, and he liked them in a sensual way. In fact, a man like Vitro didn't choose to be the womanizer he was; rather, it just became who he was. Women desired him more and wanted to possess him more the more they knew about him, which was the issue. Vitro was not a possessive person. He was much too dangerous to be devotedly loved. He would do anything to obtain his freedom because he needed it.

Additionally, the way his eyes rolled in their sockets had an almost infantile innocence that made anyone want to entrust him with their lives. Nobody, living or dead, had ever turned down a favor from Vitro.

Vitro drove 18 hours a day, six days a week to pay his bills and support his family. He did this while sitting on a thick cushion for comfort and to give himself a competitive edge: to improve his capacity for quick thinking. Like most other cab drivers, Vitro began his career in New York. His initial goal was to earn enough money to launch his own taxi service, acquire a fleet of cabs, and obtain medallions.

He was therefore determined to put an end to any and all other desires or endeavors that would compromise this goal. Many people were unaware that operating a taxicab was a very risky job that might turn a saint into a beast or a beast into a monster. His three-day course comprised geography, a written exam, a defensive driving lesson, and a drug test. He also spoke English fluently.

He began with the Checker and Yellow taxis. Vitro saw it all while operating a cab in New York. In his taxi, he had witnessed people getting married, getting divorced, throwing up, fighting with their partners, and breaking up and moving on. Numerous significant individuals had sat in his car, and numerous elderly women had made advances. He had the honor of hearing things he wasn't supposed to and didn't want to hear. He had witnessed hardcore intercourse in the backseat and witnessed youngsters, girls, old men, and ladies masturbating.

Vitro commenced employment at Yellow Cab Company. Instead of a commission program, the Yellow Cab Company offered a lease program. The day-long taxi lease was part of the initiative. For instance, you spent $50.00 total, including gas. Gas cost around a dollar and some cents at the time, but it still built up. If you earned more than $50, it was all yours; if not, you owed the business money.

Generally speaking, the commission program involved sharing your gains with the business. Working on commission had the benefit that gas was covered by the employer. Working on commission also allowed you to bring the taxicab in and go home if it was a dull night.

Vitro's first day of employment was a night shift. He worked for 12 hours, yet his daily take was only $12! Even though his wife was appalled, he persisted. He liked his work and saw huge promise in it. A few days later, he made $50.00. He was fortunate to have a lengthy journey to Englewood. A good-natured consumer would be contented because at least his routine had changed. This one was unique in a way, and he liked the winding country roads.

He then discovered the best place to wait for calls. Grocery calls were the worst jobs he'd ever had. He had to load baggage for the passengers into his taxi. When they arrived, he had to assist with carrying their luggage, occasionally climbing a flight of steps, and by the way, for a few tips! He recalled a client who left him a cent tip. Yes, they tallied up with a couple of dollars here and there-possibly four-but it was not an easy job.

Overall, tips were excellent. Working at the airport, he received several generous gratuities. Tips like this would see him through on a sluggish day. He occasionally received a tip of $20 or $30. Gas was very affordable at the time, which was in the late 1970s.

As a cab driver, you risk getting carried away and letting your guard down. When it was time to pay, some passengers who had taken cabs fled. Additionally, there was a chance of getting shot. The chest of Vitro's closest friend was stabbed. He managed to live, but it took him a long time to heal after surgery, and a lengthy recuperation. Accidents were a possibility, too. Vitro had been through it all.

When you were in an accident, the business had a deductible that you had to pay. On a winter night, he skidded and hit the side of the fender. He received a deduction of roughly $305.00 as a result of that incident.

He picked up three children from Times Square after only three weeks in the business. They were quite dubious, and Vitro worried that he may be robbed. In any case, he didn't want to throw them out of the cab. They desired visiting the Bronx. In the hopes of being stopped by a police cruiser, he ran red lights. Four paddy vehicles stopped him as he crossed the Madison Avenue Bridge and frisked the children. All three of them had a large collection of stolen trinkets, and two of them carried sharp knives.

A man once approached him while he was at the Plaza Hotel. He could only smell money. "To Monticello!" he bawled. He was going to a couple races there. He was a horse owner. They talked about the horse race as they were moving. Fortunately, Vitro had enough cash on hand from the previous day's work to wager $150 on his horse, which triumphed. Since it was a favorite, he only took home $100. He never revealed what he had done, but he was aware that the man was overjoyed because he had been informed that the horse had made over $2 million. In the end, the man gave him $700. Three days of work wouldn't have given him that much.

Something happened in the course of his work that changed his life forever. He was putting in his hours while working nights. There wasn't much money made, and it was a long and arduous night. He picked up two women at a supermarket. He confronted them just as they were about to escape without paying. They informed him that he would receive payment from someone else.

He then noticed a smartly dressed man limping in his direction with one hand in his pockets. He was dressed in a black tuxedo with brown corduroy pants, a white shirt, and a bowtie. He enquired as to the fare's cost. I told him. He made as if to remove the cash from his pocket, but instead, a gleaming .38 Super leaped into his hand. He made two shots before leaving. Despite wearing a heavy coat, Vitro's shoulder stung and the cab's windshield shattered, and blood rapidly drenched his arm.

He was taken to hospital by the paramedics. One of his arteries and a bone were just barely missed by the bullet. He had been severely damaged and traumatized. His involvement in a domestic conflict was announced on television. Vitro's life as a person and as a cab driver was irrevocably altered by this entire occurrence. His pregnant wife had a nervous breakdown and miscarried the child.

He quickly acclimatized, overcame his worries, and resumed his career as a cab driver.

On a Thursday afternoon shortly after 14.00 hours, Vitro sped through the Midtown Tunnel toward Manhattan while holding the steering wheel firmly in both hands.

As he turned left into East 77th Street, proceeded down Lexington, turned left onto East 54th, and returned up Third Avenue, he scanned the sidewalks for fare. He repeated this loop. After 30 minutes, he was still looking for his first fare. Driving in circles to begin your shift while the backseat was empty was never a good indication.

Did the man on suit on the corner across the street raise his hand? At Third Avenue and 59th Street, Vitro stopped. Two minutes after sliding into the backseat, the fare got out at 69th Third.

Cab drivers with experience realized that you couldn't wait for hails. Vitro saw two young women standing on Lexington and watching the approaching vehicles. He paused even though neither woman had her arm raised. He would frequently remark, "This is the art of the job, to find out who will need you." His instinct was accurate. The Upper West Side was where the females wanted to go. They gave him $13 for the ride and $2 for tips when they alighted at 108th Broadway.

More than only customers and fare are factors that affect the take-home compensation of cab drivers. The uncommon driver is the owner of his own taxi and medallion. Many drivers own neither, while others simply own the cab. A man who owns three medallion-equipped taxis hired Vitro. Given that the man worked two shifts, he was paid $800 each week.

Every taxi's hood is covered with a four by five-inch piece of tin that converts a regular yellow automobile into a vehicle with a passenger pickup permit. On the open market, a medallion can fetch hundreds of thousands of dollars.

Vitro estimated that he earned about $30,000 last year. "I only made $1,500 in one month," he admitted. "Because of car expenses, I only made $2,000 in the previous month. That wasn't a lot, really." Vitro was in a far better position now than he had been ten years before, when he had first started driving, though. He was at the bottom of the food chain for cabbies back then. Back then, cars that were going nowhere were always provided by the Yellow and Checker cab companies, he claimed. "You don't have a tire, and you're in the middle of the street."

He needed to work shifts for $200 just to make ends meet. Additionally, he could always end up stranded at the wheel of a cab that smelled of gas, coffee, food, pee, or vomit. "It's your call, Vitro said. "A stench-filled taxi will always ruin you." The only way to guarantee that you got a good cab was to put some cash in the dispatcher's hand. Now that he had a permanent cab, he was careful to retain it in immaculate condition. "Happy clients mean good tips," he noted. "To ruin your day, just get into a smelly cab."

A tourist couple with a crying baby who wanted to go to a restaurant on the Upper East Side; a middle-aged man who needed to see someone at Monster Sushi in midtown; and a frazzled woman who was running late to meet her friends in the meatpacking district were just a few of the passengers Vitro had been picking up nonstop. Vitro intended to continue driving until eight o'clock, when he anticipated that fares would become considerably more difficult to come by. This lull would continue until around 9 p.m., when potential customers started looking for a ride home. By that time, most people would have arrived at their destinations, whether they were restaurants, clubs, or theaters. Vitro finally gave up after deciding he couldn't take it any longer and guided his taxi into the McDonald's parking lot at 34th Street and Tenth Avenue.

Evidently, several dozen other cab drivers had the same thought. There was not a single available space in this parking lot due to the overwhelming number of taxi cabs. He eventually did locate a place, but as he was squeezing into it, another cab driver took it.

Vitro hurried to the backseat, opened his door, and pulled out his nightstick. "Listen. I found this spot while I was here," he remarked. Waiting is okay.

The second driver remarked, "I've been waiting for ten minutes."

'No, No, No!' Vitro bellowed, swung the stick, and hit the cab driver's head. "What makes you lie?"

Evidently, the cabbie didn't feel like getting into a brawl. He instantly backed his cab out of the space. To have a fellow cabbie stick it to him like this, especially when he had just driven for six hours straight and his bladder was on the verge of bursting, was one thing; it was quite another to put up with the traffic jam that had him moving slowly down Fifth Avenue.

A drunken man jumped on the backseat in Manhattan and said he wasn't going to pay. The Bronx was his destination. Vitro devised a strategy. He turned the heat up and shut all the windows in the cab. Minutes afterwards, the passenger dozed off. The issue was communicated to the policeman by Vitro. To the Vitro's utter amazement, the officer offered to follow them. When they arrived, Vitro awakened his guest, who tried to exit the vehicle without paying.

The cop pulled him over. Did I forget to pay? The passenger inquired. The man paid his fare in full, and when the machine asked for a tip, the man entered his PIN number after taking out a credit card and swiping it through.

The final price was $100 for the fare plus a $15 tip. The officer said, "Enjoy your tip."

As he traveled from Williamsburg to Jackson Heights on the BQE at 12.30 a.m., Vitro accelerated past 60 miles per hour for the first time that night. He had a couple in the backseat who smelled alcohol. They started having sex the moment Vitro stepped on the gas pedal. After waiting for them a bit, Vitro stopped the car, raced to the backseat, beat them until they were bloody, dragged them outside the vehicle nude, and then sped off.

Next, he picked up a drunken sailor going to the naval base. "Arrest him, he's a communist!" Vitro yelled to the security guard when they arrived. This occurred during the nefarious Soviet Empire and the Reagan era. The guard realized he was drunk. In the scuffle that ensued, he dropped a wad of $20 notes that were bunched up. Vitro picked it up, grinned and pocketed the money.

On one occasion, he was operating his taxi close to Central Park when a pedestrian suddenly began banging on the top of his vehicle. In the broad daylight traffic, Vitro silently exited the vehicle, grabbed his nightstick from the backseat, and began buffeting the individual, left, right and center. The case ended in court.

Once, on a Friday night, he picked up four uncouth ghetto individuals from Times Square. As soon as they took off, the man seated in the front of the vehicle started eating his McDonald's. Since his beverage was without a straw, he removed the cup's cover and began drinking. It was splashing and gushing all over the place. Additionally, everywhere started to smell like oil and fast food. He was urged to wait till he arrived home by Vitro. Then the man pulled the "black card" on him, claiming that the only reason he objected was because he was black.

The only reason, according to Vitro, was that it was soiling the area and he wouldn't have time to clean it up. Vitro stopped his vehicle and ordered the two men to get out. The girls insisted that they couldn't get another cab and that they should stay. It is true that ghetto residents had difficulty finding a cab, especially during peak times. Nobody wanted to interact with them, not because of their color, but because some of them weren't looking respectable, and didn't respect themselves.

He continued working with the girls in the interim. He questioned them if anyone had puked after overhearing puking sounds at a red light. Everything was OK, they claimed. He then heard it once more. Then he stopped to inspect the backseat. The backseat's floor was covered in vomit. The females responded that when they entered, the vomit was already there. Vomit was all over her clothes. At this moment, Vitro severely beat the girls and forced them out of the taxi after they had lied to him. Would he have reacted differently if the puking and lying had been committed by a white girl?

He picked up a man at TriBeCa, and drove him all the way to Dyckman Street. There was a $40 fare. The man rushed out the door as soon as he arrived. Vitro was unwilling to waste his time by calling the police. He then began to return downtown. He saw an envelope the guy left in the backseat. 25 bucks was in it. The man's address was written on the envelope, which he located as soon as he pulled over. He immediately swung the car around and headed back to that address. After recognizing Vitro when the doorbell rang, the man rushed back inside. Vitro pursued him brandishing a gun. That day, the man paid him 80 dollars, and Vitro hung a sucker punch on his jaw that caused him to lose two teeth.

After driving her to Westchester, a large, desperate woman earnestly invited Vitro into her home and muttered, "Dude, I need your company tonight. Name your price. Whatever you desire. I've been searching for a man like you who is hot. Give me the remainder of your day. Vitro extended a beatific smile and accepted her invitation.

Vitro jokingly said, "Fifteen hundred."

"It's a deal," the buxom woman muttered. "I'll pay for your entire day. I simply wish you were as good as my suspicions suggest you are. If you are, I will retain and pay you, and you will have nothing to worry about. I have money."

Vitro said, "I might just be. The proof is in the pudding, as they say."

She then requested Vitro to take her to her family home. There, she placed an order for Chinese food for the two of them before they made their way back to the woman's residence. Vitro ended up staying with the woman three days without calling home to let anyone know where he was. Her name was Erica, Erica Haastrup.

Meeting Erica was like keeping an appointment with destiny. Through Erica, Vitro came to know five other wealthy women in her league, who even though had intimate relationships with Vitro, tried to keep it a top secret from the others, yet worked to possess Vitro and protect him from the others. Things came to a head and went topsy turvy when this web of relationships became the real business, cab driving a mere smokescreen, and it goes without saying, the entrance of Aleksa onto the stage.

When Vitro arrived home after three days, Aleksa erupted into hysteria, yelling and screaming, cursing, and knocking on all the metal doors of the house. She was acting with knowledge. Vitro had a short attention span and a strong aversion to noise. He was now in trouble. The amount of noise was deafening. As the cacophony increased, he groaned and covered his head under many pillows. She didn't stop. The yelling and hammering persisted and reached fever heat. Vitro started to wriggle about under the pillows as he trembled with wrath and profound dejection. The elasticity of his patience soon reached breaking points. He started to frantically thrash around in bed and growl like a lion. Then, standing up, he grinned uncertainly while baring his teeth. Then in one deft move, he seized his wife's throat, swept her up and flung her out the fifth-floor window with devastating brute force. Fortunately, she landed safely on the fourth-floor balcony. She managed to survive the mishap, but she miscarried again.

Following this incident, Aleksa filed for divorce.

Mary Jordan met Vitro for the first time in her life when the legal battle over who would get custody of their kid was in progress. The woman served as the court's interpreter and translator and was a fluent speaker of six languages.

She had never experienced a man with Vitro's level of control. Her body shuddered with the echo of his flowing baritone. She had never felt the way she did upon first meeting a man. Something akin happened to her with Robert, but not anything quite near this one. The enormous hole that had grown in her heart over the years seemed to have been filled by his mere presence alone, a filling so uncanny that the thin tendons holding her resistances together ruptured into fragments.

* * *

In order to operate legally within the boundaries of the City of New York, cabs have to have a medallion permanently attached to the hood. Police officers or representatives of the governing body of the Taxi and Limousine Commission (TLC) have the authority to stop cabs operating without medallions, fine the drivers, or seize the vehicles. The medallions were strictly regulated since the TLC had to manage how many cabs were available to work in the city at any given moment. The total quantity of medallions in circulation was capped, even though medallions could be legally transferred. As a result, the medallion's worth frequently outweighed that of the cab to which it was affixed. The financial value of a taxi medallion frequently exceeded $150,000.00.

The two taxi cabs and medallions that Vitro had been renting-a 1984 Ford with the New York City medallion number 3N15 and a 1986 Ford with the New York City medallion number 6N80-were purchased on February 9, 1989, with the help of a loan in the sum of $250,000. The automobiles and the medallions served as collateral for the ten-year loan, which was arranged through the middle Village Credit Union.

He established Briarcliff Cab Corporation on February 20, 1987, in order to run a small fleet of taxi cabs in New York City. He rented two cabs from Mackic Hamdija using this firm. He operated one taxi from February 1987 to January 1989 and subleased a second taxi.

From March 1989 until September 1990, Vitro made monthly payments of $3,806.73 toward the loan.

He paid $60,000 in cash in June of 1989 to buy a single-family home at 220 East 201 Street in the Bronx, New York. Mary Jordan, a real estate agent, helped with the transaction. From June 1990 to September 1990, he resided in the home.

Vitro made the final loan payment on September 6, 1990. Due to Vitro's prolonged default on the debt, the Middle Village Credit Union started foreclosure proceedings against him on December 17, 1990.