Expectation: A Francesca Fruscella Mystery - Softcover

Jeffrey DeShell (author)

Softcover

ISBN 10: 1573661759 ISBN 13: 9781573661751

Publisher: The University of Alabama Press, 2013

Synopsis

On the surface a murder mystery―a detective’s search for the killer of five people in Denver―Expectation is also, among other things, a meditation on the relationship between language and music.

In his newest novel, Jeffrey DeShell draws on the musical innovations of Arnold Schoenberg―by turns traditional, serial, and atonal―to inform his grammar and language. Moving progressively through specific Schoenberg compositions, DeShell complicates the surface of his text into lyrical derivatives, all the while drawing us into a murder mystery like no other as Detective Francisca Fruscella pursues both the killer and her own complicated personal history.

By turns rapturous, rigorous, and gripping, Expectation is a thriller of another kind―and a bold venture to the limits of the mystery genre and language itself.

About this title

About the Author

Jeffrey DeShell is the author of the novels In Heaven Everything is Fine, S & M, Peter: An (A)Historical Romance, The Trouble with Being Born, and Arthouse.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

Expectation

A FRANCESCA FRUSCELLA MYSTERY

By JEFFREY DESHELL

THE UNIVERSITY OF ALABAMA PRESS

Copyright © 2013 Jeffrey DeShell
All rights reserved.

ISBN: 978-1-57366-175-1

CHAPTER 1

Fünf Klavierstückeop. 23

I. sehr langsam

Investigation of murder involves the ability to recognizeand articulate patterns: sometimes the patterns are spatial,evidence restricted to specific sites. Motifs of time requirethe detective to excavate and sift, fact often the wallflower,remains reluctant, outline blending into obscure background.Crimes of passion are the easiest to understand andsolve: love, often wonderfully sweet, can leave horrific stains,blotting through white sheets, marks on paper indicting theirauthor. After choking or stabbing, killers, now the aggrieved,are truculent, victims forced into self-protective acts. Patternsof psychopaths can frustrate the detective: in examiningand comprehending deviance, often the investigatorfalters, comforting logic overwhelmed by true strangeness.Scenes of psycho-murder are the most difficult, with allgathering and analyzing futile initially, the design appearingonly in repetition, vanishing until a subsequent recurrence.

The corpse is vital, a dominant component of the pattern.The body originates both the crime and the investigation:it's the key signature to the piece. Motive is secondary,only a lesser component. Like a Brahms melody createdthrough the demands of harmony, the motive can actuallydistract from recognition, leading the investigator downcul-de-sacs, allowing the more productive trails to cool.The corpse here, indeed everything first noticed, seemedto fit seamlessly into the affair-gone-wrong husband-prime-suspecttelevision stage set of the Oxford hotel room. Thebody, that of a tanned and toned woman in her wealthythirties, was nude, tied spread eagle on the bed. A largeplume of dried blood shocked the cream colored wall: bothcarotid arteries had likely been severed.

"Detective."

"Detective."

"What are you doing here?"

"I was in the neighborhood."

"This is my case."

"I know that. Don't get nervous."

"I'm not nervous. Stay out of my way."

"If you need any help ..."

"I won't. Stay out of my way."

While he turned abruptly, almost tripping over a technician,I surreptitiously, without gloves, examined herclothes—a nice size four Armani jacket suit and matchingskirt—that were carefully folded and hung over the chair.He was right, it wasn't my case, and I was in the way. Buthe'd never acted like that to me before.

I stepped closer. The flesh was firm: she pilatied andwatched her diet. She undressed well, her skin was clear,limbs shaped and displayed for maximum effect. It hadn'tbeen enough: her killer had been unimpressed. He'd donenothing but cut her throat. He'd killed dispassionately, theknife slicing clinically, tissue parting and opening withoutresistance. She stretched out elegantly, too pampered to besomeone's woman kept. And didn't that pose, stiffening, indicateclearly that she was a willing participant, expectingnot dreading her partner's return?

"Leave. Now."

"The dick returns, abrasive."

"I don't want or need your help."

CHAPTER 2

Vier Liederop. 2

I. Erwartung

I closed my office door and opened the window blinds,letting the late afternoon April sun stream through. Thebright yellow light was stronger than I expected and Isquinted, shielding my eyes with my hand. Looking down atthe small entrance plaza, and then at the parking lot acrossthe street, I thought about all the work I had: a likely gangdrive-by and a relatively straightforward escalated barfight.The image of that woman at the Oxford—tanned limbsagainst the white of the sheets, the black blood dark againstthe cream colored wall—came to me and I began to feelsorry for her. I hadn't felt anything while I was there, savea mild interest in trying to uncover a pattern. But now, as Ithought of her splayed open, well, I hoped they didn't findme like that. No matter who or what she was, that was noway to go out. And Benderson's behavior nagged.

I heard a knock and turned.

Captain Schlaf, a large, well-built man, walked into myoffice and closed the door. Besides his block-like shape, thecaptain had two defining characteristics: he looked like heneeded to wear glasses, and he sported a huge green andred ring, big as a ping-pong ball, from his college footballteam. He was always working that fucking thing, twisting it,sliding it up and down his finger, moving his hand back andforth and admiring it from different focal distances.

"Fruscella, where are you in the Kinney case?"

"Confession imminent and, according to the DA, alikely plead to manslaughter."

"You going to send the drive-by to Gangs?"

"I want to check out a couple of things first."

He leaned forward and put his hands on the desk. Hisring caught the light and sparkled: green, red, green, like aChristmas disco ball.

"You recognize the stiff at the Oxford?"

"No."

"Does the name Magdalena Lowenthal ring any bells?"

The Lowenthals were a name in Southern Coloradowhen I was growing up: this was big. "No."

"Wife of state senator Augie Lowenthal? Best friend ofone Peter Coors? You have heard of Coors, right?"

"My best friend in high school was a Coors."

He stopped working his ring and looked me in theeye. "The woman you saw on the bed at the Oxford wasMagdalena Mary Lowenthal. This has priority, so I mightneed to take some of your team. Thought I'd let youknow."

He turned and walked out quickly. It wasn't every daythat a state senator's wife got herself kilt. An ambitious statesenator as well, a pro-life and anti-immigration rising starwith a smooth, dulcet voice, sweetening and stoking thesour shrill message of Caucasian resentment. He had a fewenemies, which meant there'd be a few suspects. And hehimself would be prime. But it wasn't my case.

II. Schenk mir Deinen goldenen Kamm

On April 2nd, 2009 at 14:30, I, officer Benny Guiterrez,was dispatched to the Oxford Hotel, 1600 17th Street, DenverCO in response to the discovery of a body in a roomof the hotel. When I arrived, I was met by a Mr. HenryLarsson, 3237 Umatilla Street, Denver DOB 6/26/65, theassistant manager of the hotel, and a Mr. James Harold, 572Race Street, Arvada DOB 8/6/57 desk clerk. Mr. Larssontold me that at approximately 2:10 pm, a Ms. Dolores Raez,of 1830 Sacramento Street Apt 1279 B DOB 2/13/78 PermanentResidence # 2398BZ459GZX23, maid, opened thedoor to clean the room, 242, and found the body. Ms. Raezimmediately ran down the stairs to inform Mr. Harold, whocalled 911. Mr. Harold then called Mr. Larsson, who wentto inspect the room. Mr. Larsson entered the room to ascertainif the victim still exhibited vitals and seeing that thevictim was deceased, he locked the door and returned to thedesk. He took Ms. Raez downstairs to the employees' roomto comfort her.

I went up to Room 242, accompanied by Mr. Larsson,who unlocked the door. I asked him if he knew the identityof the woman, and if he had seen or heard anything unusual.He responded that he had arrived on duty at six amand had not seen or heard anything unusual. I ascertainedthe victim was deceased, and as I did so, the paramedicsarrived. I called the station for backup and informed theCrimes Against Persons unit. I was ordered to secure thesite and wait for the detectives. Mr. Larsson then told methat the woman had registered under the name of MagdalenaDehmel of Colorado Springs, and that he had seenher at the hotel at least two other times. At 14:39, DetectiveBenderson and Sergeant Owen of the Homicide Divisionarrived, and I reported what Mr. Larsson told me. Irelinquished the crime scene to Detective Benderson andSergeant Owen at 14:56.

Detective Benderson and I arrived at the Oxford Hotel,1600 17th Street, Denver, on April 2nd, 2009 at 2:40pm. We met the desk clerk, Mr. James Harold, 52, of 572Race Street, Arvada, who escorted us to room 242, wherewe met Officer Benjamin Guiterrez, the first officer on thescene, and two paramedics. Officer Guiterrez informed usthat at 2:38 pm he determined the victim was deceased, andthat he then secured the site. He also informed us that accordingto Mr. Larsson, 34, of 3237 Umatilla Street, thebody was found at 2:10 by the housecleaner, Ms. DoloresRaez, 28, of 1830 Sacramento Street Apt 1279. Officer Guiterrezinformed us that Mr. Larsson had tentatively identifiedthe body as that of a Ms. Magdelena Dehmel of ColoradoSprings. Officer Guiterrez informed us that he had notformally interviewed Mr. Larsson, Mr. Harold or Ms. Raez.

At 3:03 pm, Officer Gutierrez relinquished the crime sceneto Detective Benderson. Detective Benderson called in foruniform backup, and told Guiterrez to close off the entirefloor. Detective Benderson checked for vital signs, and findingnone, released the paramedics at 3:07, and informed thecoroner's office. The victim's hands and her feet were tied tothe four corners of the bed frame with leather cords. A greatdeal of dark liquid had pooled around her neck and head,and this dark liquid was beginning to thicken. A large splatterof this dark liquid occurred on the wall to her right. Nosigns of struggle or forced entry were visible in the room,clothes were folded neatly on a chair, and the window wasclosed and locked from the inside, the window overlookingWazee Street below. At 3:12, Detectve Benderson instructedme to obtain preliminary statements from Ms. Raez andMr. Larsson see attachments 1 and 2. Ms. Raez's English isnot good, so I interviewed her in Spanish: she corroboratedMr. Larsson's statement. I checked the hotel records withMr. Harold's permission, and found that a Ms. MagdalenaDehmel of Colorado Springs was a guest of the hotel fourprevious times, on December 12th of 2007, January 16thof 2008, March 30th of 2008 and September 21st of 2008,in addition to the night in question. In all cases, the roomwas paid for with a Visa Black Card registered to MagdalenaDehmel, with the address as 275 North 17th Street, Denver.I returned to the room at 3:50 pm: three uniformed officershad now secured the hall and were beginning to attemptto interview the guests in an adjacent room. Dr. Nehdjaru,coroner and his assistant, as well as three members of theCrime Scene Investigation Unit were now present in theroom. I informed Detective Benderson of the results ofmy preliminary interviews with Raez and Larsson, as well asmy investigations into the victim's previous visits. DetectiveBenderson informed me that the initial coroner's findingsindicated the time of death was approximated between 2:30and 3:30 the morning of April 2nd, and the likely cause ofdeath was two severed carotid arteries. There was no preliminaryevidence of sexual activity. Detective Bendersonalso informed me that he had located the victim's purse, andthat her driver's license indicated the name of the victim asMagdalena Dehmel, Date of Birth August 17, 1964, address275 North 17th Street, Denver, and that various credit cardswith the names Magdalena Dehmel, Magdalena Lowenthaland Magdalena Dehmel Lowenthal were found along withher driver's license and $235 in cash. 3:57 Detective Fruscellaarrived and logged in. After speaking with DetectiveBenderson, Detective Fruscella logged out at 4:07. Thecoroner and his assistant wrapped the body in a body bag at4:20 and transported it to the morgue. Detective Bendersonreleased the site to Detective Snow of the Crime Scene InvestigationUnit at 4:47 pm.

III. Erhebung

Patterns in homicide are always there, always present.Sometimes we have to dig deep, deep into the bass as itwere, to understand the fundamental motifs and movement.Other times, themes might be inaudible because weare too close: we need to step away from the stage to be ableto hear anything over the bass and drums. And sometimesdesigns aren't comprehensible through our consciousness.Sometimes, we have to rely on our subconscious, our intuition,our ambient listening. Information can take on manyforms, and often the direct approach is the least effective.

To insist that there exist patterns in all homicides isnot to say that such patterns are always or even frequentlydiscernible. Often, through lack of information, surplus ofinformation, inadequate methods of detection, sheer exhaustion,bumbling coworkers, political or other extraneouspressures—there are many factors, an almost infinite numberof variants and accidentals—people do in fact get awaywith murder. In the US last year, about 32% of homicidecases went unsolved, one in three. In Denver, we're a littlebetter: if you kill someone here you only have a one in fourchance of not being caught.

The most interesting thing about homicide patterns tome is that I often begin to understand them only when Icome into contact with something that at first seems totallyextraneous to that pattern. Dissonance in fact provesthe key. In other words, there's only apparent dissonance, apparentcontradiction, apparent ambivalence: if the detectivestudies the data with enough skill and care, all informationfits the pattern at some level, with the most significant detailsoften being the elements that at first seem most superfluous.Accidents happen, surely, but accidents too are partof the plan. For me it's the vagrant chords that tell the story.And the lack of vagrant chords, well, that itself is unusual.

Ah fuck, what difference did it make to me? I hadenough trouble with a drive-by where nobody saw nothing.But now I was going home to my son, and perhaps hisgranddaddy had made green chili—I could smell somethinggood as I left this morning.

I got my keys out of my purse. "Francesca!"

I turned to face Benderson.

"Listen, I'm sorry about today in the hotel."

Just as he had never, ever, treated me like he did at theOxford Hotel he had never, ever, apologized to me. Andtwo wrongs never, ever, make a right.

IV. Waldsonne

There was something wrong here, the faintest intimationof a theme I didn't want to hear. Benderson and I hadbeen friends for more than twenty years, and, near the beginningof those twenty years, right after the Academy, we'dbeen more than friends. This wasn't to suggest I thoughtI knew him, far from it: we'd gone our separate ways andlived our separate lives, sometimes meeting for a drink, butusually finding reasons not to invite or accept. It wasn't likethe Benderson I knew, however, to mark his territory, tohave a pissing fight at a murder scene. And I could not recalla single time he had apologized to anyone for anything.

Right on Pecos and a stoplight at 32nd. Almost home.I always liked April light in Colorado. Around this time, seven,seven-thirty, the gold and sometimes orange and purplesunset settled into soft silver. There was a clarity, a lucidityobscured by the bright, glaring sunlight of the day. And thiswas the time that I often went home to my son.

I pulled into the driveway and saw Nick's bike on theporch of the house entrance. The thick metal chain waswrapped tightly around the stem of the seat: he hadn't putit away and he hadn't locked it to anything. Boy was careless,forgetful, and sadly mistaken if he thought I'd replace a stolenbicycle. And I loved him with all of the heart I had left.

The shop lights were still on, so I thought I'd stick myhead in to say a few words to Hector, Nicholas' paternalgrandfather. I could hear Wes Montgomery just before Iopened the door. Hector was hunched over something backat his bench, the work light on and his soldering glassescovering his eyes. I noticed the acidic metal smell of thesolder, and the bebop was coming from the right, maybeStudio D. I walked past the front counter and into Hector'sinner sanctum. He flipped his lenses up and looked at me.

"I didn't hear you come in."

"Obviously. You lock the register?"

He nodded. "Got some good news: I sold a pair of theCremonas to some guy from Vail. Trying to get him to takethe Conrad Johnson monoblocks, but he likes McIntosh."He looked me up and down and said, "Maybe you couldwork on him?"

"I'm forty-seven, he must be eighty and you must bekidding. We should go celebrate the Cremonas."

"I already made chili."

"I saw Nick's bike."

"He was practicing until a minute ago."

"I'll see you up there. And don't work too long, I'mhungry."

I walked through the workshop and through the backdoor, then up the dark stairs, where the smell of hot wireand electrical heat was replaced by pork and green Pueblochilies. As I opened the kitchen door, the spicy smell becamepalpable, and I could see Nicholas lounging on the livingroom couch, staring at something in his hand, probablyhis cellphone. I looked at his furrowed brow and smiled:he was easily the best thing that had ever happened to me.

"Hey, what are you doing?"

He didn't look up. "Texting."

"You need to lock your bike or put it in the garage."

"I will."

"You practice the Bach today?"

"Yeah."

(Continues...)

Excerpted from Expectation by JEFFREY DESHELL. Copyright © 2013 Jeffrey DeShell. Excerpted by permission of THE UNIVERSITY OF ALABAMA PRESS.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

Edition details

• Publisher: The University of Alabama Press
• Publication date: 2013
• Language: English
• ISBN 10: 1573661759
• ISBN 13: 9781573661751
• Binding: Paperback
• Edition number: 1
• Number of pages: 120