Chapter 48
CHAPTER
For several days, i felt 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 three more 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.
“Ah,” he said after glancing at our badges.
“Why’d they run?”
“A learned response,” he said in a thick Haitian accent.
“Why didn’t you run, Valentino?” Sampson said.
“Valentine,” Rodolpho said, his eyes going cold. “And I cannot run.”
“We noticed that,” I said. “We also noticed you’ve spent the morning doing a whirlwind tour of known areas where hard drugs are sold.”
“Did you?” Rodolpho said.
“We did,” Sampson said. “What’s up with that, Valentino?”
Rodolpho’s nostrils flared. “It is my give-back. I talk with the troubled youth, try to get them out of trouble before they are in bigger trouble.”
I squinted at him skeptically. “You’re telling us you’re running some kind of street ministry?”
“If you want to call it that.”
John said, “We’re not buying it, Valentino.
You tell your cousin that despite his humanitarian work and your street ministry, we are not letting go of this.
We know that you and Patrice were involved in the murders of Tony Miller and Shay Mansion, and no matter how long it takes, we are going to prove it. ”
If Rodolpho felt threatened, he did not show it. “Good luck, because I do not know who those people are. Unless we have further business, I will go—my ride is here. Do not bother to follow me. Next stop is for the physical therapy.”