Page 61 of Return of the Spider
Soneji had long been fascinated by fame. His mother and grandmother always had issues ofPeoplemagazine around the house, and they talked about celebrities and royalty as if they were all on a first-name basis.
He thought about the Lindbergh case again and felt a thrill surge inside him. He remembered feeling like this after snatching Joyce Adams and bringing her to the old cabin in the Pine Barrens. He remembered how he felt when he overheard Conrad Talbot’s plans in a school hallway and formulated his own.
Committing murder was often short and sweet, Soneji thought as he trailed Little up a staircase. But taking a captive—well, that was different, especially if you could grab a child of a high-profile parent. That would be the stuff of legend. That would mean fame of his own.
“Mr. Soneji?”
Soneji startled at the casual sound of his assumed name and realized they’d stopped outside a classroom.
“Right here, sir,” he said and grinned at the headmaster, who was frowning.
“This will be your classroom,” Little said. “Let’s meet Mrs. Ravisky, then I’ll leave you two to sort out your transition into Washington Day life.”
Soneji increased the wattage on his smile one more time. “Nothing could make me happier, Mr. Little. Nothing.”
CHAPTER
48
For several days, ifelt like we’d hit a stone wall on both the shootings and our investigation into Patrice Prince and his gang. About the only real progress was made by Detective Angelis in Fairfax County.
Or, rather, by Virginia’s state crime lab on behalf of Angelis. An analysis of nylon fibers found in Brenda Miles’s neck abrasions had definitively identified the item used to strangle her as an MFP utility rope. Oddly, the rope analysis had also picked up blood traces that didn’t belong to the murdered real estate agent or to any other human. It was deer blood.
When we told Chief Pittman about the lack of progress at our midweek staff meeting, he told us to shift our focus and put heat on Prince’s cousin Valentine Rodolpho in a way that would signal to the gang leader that we were not easing up on him or his crew.
When we reminded the chief that undercover officer Nancy Donovan had asked us to lay off Rodolpho, Pittman said, “I have a little bit more experience than she does. I think you guys following him and hassling him a little could very well cause him to open up to her more. Or am I wrong on the psychology of this, Dr. Cross?”
I thought about it. “You’re not wrong, Chief.”
“There you go. Let’s see how Valentine responds to a little flame to the tush.”
A half an hour later, we were in a squad car down the street from Rodolpho’s row house.
Sampson was irritated. “Flame to the tush?” he said. “I don’t know about the chief sometimes.”
“He has solid instincts and ten times more experience than both of us.”
“Yeah, I get it. It’ll be two hours until Valentino shows. I’m going to grab a nap.”
“Not this morning,” I said, gesturing toward the row house where Rodolpho was holding tight to the banister and limping down the stairs.
A black Lincoln Town Car rolled up, and we were after him again. Only this time, there was no trip to the Haitian coffee shop or the warehouse in Maryland.
The car took him to a known open-air drug market in Southeast DC, where we watched Rodolpho speak to a number of young guys who seemed to know him. He talked to them for fifteen minutes before getting back in the car and leaving.
“I didn’t see any money or drugs changing hands,” Sampson said as I put the car in gear to follow.
“Neither did I,” I said.
Over the course of the next two hours, Rodolpho visited threemore areas known for drug dealing and had several more brief conversations with various young men and women. Again, no drugs or money appeared to change hands.
“I say we put a little flame to his tush,” I said when Prince’s cousin got out of the car for the fifth time and limped toward a group of young men outside a housing project in Gaithersburg, Maryland.
“Let’s,” Sampson said, opening his door as soon as I’d parked.
We rolled toward them, coats open, badges displayed on our belts. Rodolpho had his back to us, but his young friends saw us coming.
One of them said something I didn’t catch, and they all bolted. Prince’s cousin turned and smiled, revealing a gold upper incisor.
