Lethal Fractures: Chapter 11

Special Agent Tony DiNozzo surreptitiously watched his suspect from across the dirty and scarred table while he employed his favorite interrogation tactic: annoy them into talking by ignoring them, for as long as it took. His personal record was thirteen hours of sitting in that little room, passing the time by alternatively playing games on his phone and texting dirty messages to Ziva, just on the other side of the two-way mirror behind him. He still wondered if that suspect had noticed him blushing.

He knew Ziva hated this particular method of interrogation, especially when she was the one who had to sit and wait for something to happen in Observation, as she was now. They had actually had arguments about it. She preferred a much more direct approach, but DiNozzo had dryly reminded her that thumbscrews are frowned on in polite society. Still, he was wary of annoying her too much; he discovered that she had a much more effective mode of torture in her arsenal, one that didn't involve archiac devices but still had left him promising to do whatever she wanted. He wished he had more willpower, but the idea of being cut off from sex was just too much for him.

He had a slight break in the action of his Tetris game—which, for some reason, he actually preferred on his old phone, compared to this new one—while the new level came up, time which he used to glance at Joe Avila again. The stocky Hispanic man looked annoyed, but he had looked just as annoyed two hours ago when they brought him in. DiNozzo had studied the security guard's extensive tattoos in detail as Ziva drove them into NCIS, looking for any clue of past military service, but the dancing skeletons and half-naked women didn't seem to be hiding any anchors or Semper Fi's or unit logos. He didn't seem like the type to voluntarily join up with Uncle Sam, either.

"Come on, man, what're we waiting for?" Avila finally complained, his large biceps bulging momentarily as he fidgeted in his seat. "We've been here all day."

"It's been about two hours," DiNozzo replied calmly. "And I'm not in a hurry."

"Well, shit, man, I ain't getting paid to sit around some CSI interrogation room," he continued. "Do you even know what you're doing? Maybe I should be calling my law-yer." He enunciated the syllables of that last word, as if the idea of a cheap public defender in an equally cheap suit was supposed to scare DiNozzo.

The federal agent shrugged. "Go right ahead," he said nonchalantly. "Lawyers take a while to get here, and like I said, I'm not in a hurry."

"Shit," Avila muttered again before changing tactics. "Listen, man, I don't know anything about that couple getting killed."

DiNozzo raised his eyebrows, even while keeping his gaze fixed on the colored blocks on the screen of his phone. "Who said anything about a murder?"

"Well, shit, man, I just figured that's what this is about," Avila whined. "Why else would some federal agents from some agency I ain't ever heard of come knocking on my door wanting to 'talk'. Shit. I told you everything I know." He fell silent for a moment, then leaned forward as if his next words were some kind of secret. "Listen, man, my woman, she's waiting for me to come on over, and if I ain't there, I'm worried she'll find someone else to keep her busy, you know what I'm saying?" DiNozzo was tempted to reply that he didn't worry about his girlfriend leaving him when he was a couple of hours late. His biggest worry when he didn't show up on time was to be broken in a thousand pieces and scattered throughout several city blocks, never to be seen or heard from again, but he figured Avila's 'woman' wasn't quite in the same class as Ziva.

Figuring that Avila was close to being ready to talk, DiNozzo was about to close his game and get to work when a text came in from McGee. DiNozzo still wondered how people did interrogations before text messages. It was so much more efficient to have someone looking stuff up and getting it to you instantly than to have to fish around for information, only to have to decide later if it was true or not.

The message, probably sent from McGee's computer based on the length, read, "Avila, Joseph V. DOB 3-14-81. No military service. Prior misdemeanor charges for shoplifting, drunk and disorderly, possession of marijuana, DUI. No felony charges. Juvenile record sealed." Hmm. It certainly didn't sound like the resume of a man who would shoot four men and break the necks of four women, but maybe he had seen the guy who had.

"Wednesday night," DiNozzo finally barked. "Where were you?"

"Shit, man, I was at work," Avila whined.

"You mean guarding the empty building in Chevy Chase."

"Well, yeah, man. That's my job. I work for a private security firm." 'Private security firm' was one of those phrases that sounded impressive, but was usually run by a retired patrol cop and staffed by police academy wash-outs, kids trying to get security experience before moving onto bigger and better things, and dead-beats like Avila.

"The building that has a perfect view of the building where Captain Rodriguez lived."

"Who?"

"The woman who was killed on Wednesday night," DiNozzo said impatiently.

"I told you, man, I didn't have anything to do with that!" Avila protested.

"Shit, man," DiNozzo replied, mimicking the security guard perfectly, "I knew that already. The guy we're looking for is a whole lot smarter than you." Avila frowned, not knowing if he was being insulted or about to be set free or both. "As we see it, whoever killed Rodriguez and her boyfriend was watching them from the building that you were supposed to be guarding, so I'll ask you again: where were you on Wednesday night?"

"I told you, I was at work," Avila insisted.

"Where's your guard station?"

"First floor lobby," the guard replied automatically. "Right by the front door."

"Any other way into the building?"

Avila shook his head. "No way, man. The other doors are still blocked off. Plywood and construction equipment keep those doors from opening."

"So there's only one way in and out of the building?"

"You deaf, man? That's what I just said."

DiNozzo fixed him with a cold stare. "Now that's what I can't quite figure out," he said, his tone an odd mixture of curiosity and harshness. "If there's one way in and one way out, and you were guarding it the whole time, then either our killer is a ghost or you're lying to me. Now, I'll ask you again, where were you Wednesday night?"

"I told you, man, I was at work. And there ain't nobody who came or went, so maybe you are looking for a ghost."

"Or maybe you left your post just long enough to kill them."

"I didn't kill nobody!" Avila's voice had risen to near-panic. "I told you, man, I had nothing to do with nobody dying!"

"Uh-huh," DiNozzo said sarcastically as he rose from his chair. He stepped toward the door without another word.

"Wait, man!" Avila protested. "Where're you going?"

DiNozzo shrugged. "I have to find someone to book you," he said calmly.

"Book me?" His voice was now a near-shriek. "For what?"

Another shrug. "We'll start with obstruction of a federal investigation, but I'm going to see if I can add double homicide to the list."

"Double—no way, man, I didn't kill nobody! Listen, man, you don't need to book me for nothing." He looked suddenly defeated. "Okay, you're right, man. I wasn't at my post all night like I told you. There's this girl, Maria, she's kinda a classy bitch, but sometimes she likes slumming, you know? She comes by sometimes, we go up to one of the nice big office rooms on the top floor and, well, you know." DiNozzo was tempted to feign ignorance and make Avila explain, but decided not to. "I didn't want that to get back to my woman, 'cause if she found out that I was fucking some other girl on the side, she'd drop me right away and take off and take my kid with her. Shit, man, she's not going to find out, is she?"

DiNozzo ignored the question. "How long were you gone?"

Avila gave a defeated shrug. "Forty-five minutes, maybe an hour." Long enough for someone to get in, get in a position to watch Rodriguez's condo, and get out, especially if he knew her routines and knew when to arrive.

"You do this pretty often?"

A defeated nod. "Yeah, man," Avila said gloomily. "I mean, shit, man, it's Chevy Chase. There's ain't never anything going on around there. I don't know why those construction people think they need a security guard. Ain't gonna be any of those rich people taking anything from a construction site, that's for sure."

"How often?" DiNozzo asked. "How often are you away from your post?"

Avila shrugged. "I dunno, man. I work from when the construction people take off at four until midnight when my relief comes on. I'm sometimes away for half the shift, maybe more. But nothing's ever been stolen, man." Four hours a night was definitely enough time for someone to do surveillance on Rodriguez. "Shit, man. Are you going to tell my woman?"

"Nope," DiNozzo replied. Avila relaxed visibly before he added, "But she'll probably want to know why you lost your job."

"Lost my job? What the hell are you talking about?"

The NCIS agent shrugged as he again headed for the door. "I don't think your boss is going to be too happy when he finds out that you haven't been doing what he's been paying you to do." He glanced back just long enough to see Avila's head collapse onto the table in defeat. He almost felt bad for the guy, before he remembered that his unwillingness to actually do his job was what allowed a serial killer to get close enough to his next victims to kill them.