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Crystal Umbrella
Crystal Umbrella
Crystal Umbrella
Ebook225 pages3 hours

Crystal Umbrella

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Set in Philadelphia in the year 2001, the story centers around a young man struggling with his homosexuality, the bigotry towards the gay community and the serial murderer who targets gays.The Crystal Umbrella is a novel that is a suspenseful as it is shocking , a talle of psychological intrigue with frightening authentic characters,

LanguageEnglish
PublisherAuthorHouse
Release dateJul 21, 2014
ISBN9781496918680
Crystal Umbrella
Author

Joseph F. Ruggiero

Joseph F Ruggiero was born and raised in South Philadelphia. He has spent his life working as a psychotherapist. He is an avid reader, walker, and family man. A member of the Secular Franciscan Order, Ruggiero and his wife Bernadette has five children, and nine grandchildren. He has founded a most successful drug and alcohol treatment facility, Self Help Movement, Inc, where he has worked for more than forty years as the CEO. Dr Ruggiero retired in 2010 but continues to serve on the Board of Directors. He pursues his passion as a fiction writer believing deeply in the healing power of fiction: to uplift, inspire, entertain the soul, and bring about a change of values. He has written two novels, A Rose on Ninth Street, and Raggabooty. He has adopted his first novel into a screenplay, A Rose On Ninth Street, which was shot in South Philadelphia, and Bristol , PA. The film will be distributed for worldwide digital release, and cable TV by Monarch Films. Joseph F Ruggiero will share a portion of the proceeds of this book with Self Help Movement, Inc for their work in the treatment of Drug and Alcohol Disease. He will also donate to the American Diabetes Association.

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    Book preview

    Crystal Umbrella - Joseph F. Ruggiero

    Chapter One

    T he rear parking lot was deserted except for a red Taurus. Lenny Davenport, late twenties, African America, wearing khakis and a brown leather jacket, and Barry Witherspoon, thirty, light skin wearing blue jeans and a Phillies sweat shirt were in the back seat making out. They kissed passionately and embraced tenderly. It was a cold night in January. Most of the east coast was buried in snow. Philadelphia was no different. The L Club closed early because of the impending storm. Lenny whispered into Barry’s ear, I love you.

    I know you do.

    Lenny pulled away. You love me, don’t you?

    Although Lenny and Barry had been seeing each other for the past six months, Barry was unable to tell Lenny what he wanted to hear, that he was in love with him. Barry was struggling with his sexuality. He cared for Lenny and was attracted to him, but he was also engaged to a fine young lady, handpicked for him by his family. A week or two before, he had a conversation with his uncle about the debate taking place in city council over the Domestic Partners Bill. It allowed gay city workers to obtain the same medical coverage for themselves and their live-in partners as married couples. His uncle hoped that the courts would strike it down. Barry remembered that he told his uncle that everyone should have the right to medical coverage. His uncle got furious, telling him that this bill was an enemy to traditional family values. He kept dominating the conversation until Barry told him he understood his view.

    Did you hear what I said? asked Lenny as he laid hold of Barry’s shoulders.

    Sorry. Barry looked blankly in the distance.

    Where the hell were you?

    I’m sorry. I heard you, Lenny.

    Well, can you answer my question? He was almost shouting.

    Lenny, you know I care for you. I’m not good at the word love. Sometimes I’m terrified of all that it means.

    We’ve been seeing each other for the last six months, and you’re still telling me you can’t say the words, I love you. What’s wrong with me? Lenny opened his hands in desperation.

    Nothing’s wrong with you. You’re a great person. I really like you and most of the time we enjoy each other’s company. I’m just confused and mixed up, said Barry, looking away from Lenny’s penetrating glance.

    About what?

    I’m not sure.

    Not sure?

    I’m not even sure that I’m gay.

    Barry, you’re just kidding yourself. It’s your uncle. You are still trying to lead your life according to other people’s expectations. Lenny spoke with a mocking sarcasm trying to make eye contact.

    Lenny, I don’t want to be gay.

    Looking at him straight in the eye he asked, Then what are you doing here?

    I tried to break away. I said to myself I wasn’t going to see you again. But you called and I heard your voice and I melted. God, I can’t stand being pulled apart like this.

    You’re being pulled apart because you’re not facing the truth. You can’t help being what you are. You don’t have a choice and neither do I. You’re a fagot, a fairy and every other bad thing they say about us, but you’re just gay and I love you.

    You may be right, but I need help.

    Help to do what? Deny your true self? Are you afraid of disappointing your highly placed Uncle Charles Witherspoon II? Well, you have to live with your conscience. It’s your life you are leading, not C.W. the second.

    It’s not that easy! Hearing a faint but strange sound Lenny motioned for Barry to be quiet.

    Why?

    I heard something, Lenny whispered.

    Nobody’s out there. Barry rolled down the window.

    Don’t do that, Barry. I heard something.

    Lenny, there is no one out here. You’re imagining things. He stuck his head out of the car to prove to Lenny that everything was okay.

    Barry, there is a maniac running around killing people. Just then they heard a chain rattle. Lenny shrank back into the seat. Did you hear that?

    Barry tilted his head, listening for another sound.

    Please, let’s just get out of here.

    Barry rolled up the window, and jumped over into the driver’s seat, as he did a loud crash shattered the rear window where Lenny was seated. Suddenly two large hands with a chain stretched taut between them came through the window and wrapped themselves around Lenny’s neck. The intruder let out a yell as he pulled the chain tighter and tighter. Lenny’s face turned blue. His eyes looked as if they were going to pop out of their sockets. Barry’s body shook as he watched his lover being dragged through the window, glass ripping through Lenny`s flesh. Then, silence filled the space. In a quick moment, Barry opened the door and fled looking back only to the see the murderer in hot pursuit. He was the next victim. He held no hope that Lenny was alive. He was only able to see the murderer as a tall man in a black overcoat and a scarf masking his face.

    He was running so fast that he slipped on the slick, icy pavement. He saw a red brick row home with a light in the window. He struggled to his feet and headed for his only chance to escape. He banged the door with his fists, screaming, Help please help me. As he looked over his shoulder, his eyes locked into the savage stare of his lover’s murderer. The black figure, gloves soaked with blood, advanced towards him like an animal ready to rip off his face. An elderly gentleman opened the door. The killer turned tail and ran. Barry collapsed and fell limp into the tiled vestibule floor.

    Chapter Two

    T all with broad shoulders, in his early fifties with thick black hair and graying temples, Detective DiGuiseppe stepped out of the police car in front of the Ritz Apartments, in Rittenhouse Square. It was six a.m. Detective Quinn parked the car. DiGuiseppe went inside. The lobby looked like a museum, with Gauguin prints and a few Picassos hanging on the walls. Marble floors and a crystal chandelier hanging above the spiral staircase completed the picture of faded elegance. The security guard, a thin, middle-aged man in a brown uniform with golden buttons, sat at a desk near the staircase. He glanced up, smiled and stepped forward to greet DiGuiseppe.

    Good morning, sir, Nasty weather out there. I didn’t think anyone would be traveling today.

    Showing his badge DiGuiseppe said, In my line of work you travel regardless of the weather.

    Yes, sir, can I help you?

    I’m here to see Lieutenant Donald Jones.

    Donald Jones didn’t venture much from his one bedroom apartment ever since his retirement from the force. Many of his friends from the force phoned and left messages, but he never returned calls and would never entertain. Donald Jones was lieutenant of the homicide division and Ralph DiGuiseppe was a sergeant assigned to him. They became good friends and worked side by side for ten years. When Donald retired he recommended Ralph to the higher ups to take his place as lieutenant of the homicide division. Ralph, over the last five years, wanted to see his friend in the worst way, but left him alone. He knew Donald was brooding and needed time to heal. But now, Ralph needed his help. He was under a lot of pressure. He was sure Donald would see him. He just had to.

    Looking at his watch, the security guard said, It’s kind of early, but I can call his apartment to see if he’s up.

    Why don’t you do that? I’m sure he’ll want to see me. We’re old friends.

    Mr. Jones doesn’t normally see anyone. He is a very private man.

    I’m here on police business. Like I said, he’ll see me.

    Just then Detective Quinn entered the lobby and joined DiGuiseppe.

    Donald was sipping his coffee, listening to the weather report. This is the first major storm of 2001. The schools are closed along with all governmental offices. The mayor has pleaded for people to stay at home. Just then the intercom rang. Donald’s eyebrows rose. Reaching for the phone, he thought, why would Harry be calling me this early?

    Hello.

    Detective Jones.

    Yes, Harry, what’s wrong?

    There are two police detectives to see you, Officers DiGuiseppe and Quinn.

    Donald paused and then asked, Ralph DiGuiseppe?

    Yes.

    He knew it had to be important for Ralph to visit, especially in this weather.

    Send them up!

    Right away, sir.

    Donald wondered what they wanted from him. As he placed his coffee cup in the sink, he turned his attention to a news flash. We interrupt this program to bring you a news bulletin. The serial killer has struck again. Police have not released the name of the victim, however, they did say that the victim’s friend witnessed the murder and was pursued by the murderer. He managed to escape. The police commissioner hopes to make a statement later in the day. Donald shut off the radio and went over to the window. He was wondering if the police had any leads when the doorbell rang.

    As he opened the door, Ralph, notepad hanging out of his coat pocket and dressed in pants in need of a tailors pressing iron, greeted him with a smile. Hey boss, it’s been a long time.

    Well, Ralph, see you still know how to dress.

    Ralph laughed. It’s great to see you. This is Joe Quinn, my partner these days.

    Joe, in his late twenties, dressed in a navy blue suit, white shirt and blue tie, with a military crew cut, shook hands with Donald.

    Come in. How about a cup of coffee? he asked

    We can use it, said Ralph.

    Thank you, said Joe.

    Donald took three coffee cups out of the kitchen cabinet, and placed them on the table. Ralph what brings you out in this weather?

    Donald, we need your help.

    Donald’s eye brows stretched as he took the coffee pot off the stove. He approached his guests, poured coffee into the cups, and said, I’m retired. I can’t believe you were able to drive in this storm.

    I’m use to it. I lived in Nova Scotia for three years, worked on my uncle’s farm, thanks, said the young detective.

    Donald, did you hear about the murder that took place last night? asked Ralph.

    I was listening to a news flash before you came. They didn’t give the victim’s name.

    Reaching for the sugar, Joe said, The victim’s name was Lenny Davenport, a twenty-two year old African American. His throat was cut from ear to ear.

    But first the poor bastard was pulled through the window of his car with a chain around his neck. His friend panicked and ran. He was lucky to escape with his life, said Ralph, pouring milk into his coffee.

    I heard something to that effect over the radio.

    Donald, I’m getting a lot of pressure to solve this case, said Ralph, sipping his coffee.

    Pressure, from whom?

    The commissioner, said Ralph.

    And he is getting pressure from the mayor’s office, said Joe.

    The mayor’s office, who was the victim?

    I told you. Lenny Davenport.

    No, Ralph, I mean what connection did he have to the mayor’s office?

    Ralph said, The victim had no connection, but his friend, who witnessed the murder is, Barry Witherspoon, the nephew of Charles Witherspoon, the chief of staff for the mayor.

    Donald putting down his coffee cup, bit down on his lower lip. Witherspoon was not a pleasant name to him.

    He is one of the most powerful political figures in the state, said Joe.

    Also one of the wealthiest, I know all about Mr. Witherspoon. He controls Witherspoon`s department stores, acknowledged Donald.

    Joe nodded.

    His nephew witnessed the murder. Let him give you a description.

    The guy is in shock, said Joe.

    His uncle is protecting him, said Ralph.

    Does he think he can protect him from the murderer?

    No, from the press, said Joe.

    The press?

    Yes, it was a known fact that Davenport was gay, said Joe.

    Reaching, behind his chair, for his sweatshirt Donald said, Okay, Ralph, now it’s becoming clear. Barry Witherspoon was his lover.

    We believe so, said Joe.

    We can’t be sure, but we must keep this quiet.

    You mean, Ralph, cover up the fact Barry is gay.

    Yes.

    It is public knowledge that Charles Witherspoon is not sympathetic towards the gay community. He feels they are a threat to family life. If it came out his nephew was gay, it would be an embarrassment, said Donald.

    Probably, but Witherspoon loves his nephew. Ever since his brother died, he became the boy’s guardian. He is trying to protect his nephew. There is nothing wrong with that.

    No, Ralph, but it may be hard to do, said Joe.

    Donald looked at Ralph with an expression of surprise, then got up, and raised the thermostat on the wall to seventy-five. He turned to Ralph, saying, I can’t believe what I’m hearing from you.

    We can solve this crime and protect the young man from the press.

    Ralph, that’s not the department’s responsibility. You must uncover the facts, and bring the murderer to justice. That is your job, said Donald, taking a magnetic pencil from the refrigerator door and marking an x in the box of the calendar indicating the day and date, Tuesday the tenth.

    You’re right, and I don’t need any hack politicians to tell me how to do my job. After twenty years on the force, you think I would be used to their bullshit, but I’m not. Look, Donald, my only interest is in catching this fucking maniac, and bringing him to justice. If I can help protect Witherspoon’s reputation I have no problem doing so. No matter what I say or do, the commissioner will expect us to cooperate with Witherspoon. If I don’t, the bastard can have me transferred out of homicide. I’m not going to let that happen. Donald, I need your help.

    What are you talking about?

    The captain wants you on the case as a consultant, and so do I, said Ralph.

    Donald went to the window. While staring out onto the square he said, You don’t need me.

    You’re wrong, said Ralph. We do need you. Listen, Donald, I know you’re still brooding for Sara, but she’s gone. I think she would want you to get involved in this case.

    Donald took a quick look at Ralph, his face red with anger. Let’s leave Sara out of this. Ralph, you’re a good man. I like you, but I wish you would leave me blissfully retired. I’m not interested in this case or any other.

    Joe said, Detective Jones…

    It’s no longer detective, he said, emphasizing each word.

    Not in my book. You’ll always be detective to me, said Joe. At the academy many of us rookies heard of your reputation. It would be a privilege to work with you."

    His face returning to normal, Donald said, I’m not interested. I don’t mean to be rude, but I just wish you would leave.

    "Well, I guess we took up enough of your time. All I ask, Donald, is that you think about it. You have

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