Who Am I? | Ch. 4

Chapter Four

I need to know who Javier Escalera is.
As Randall Winters headed back to the lobby, he was thinking of the information gathered thus far. He didn’t doubt that Mr. Escalera and the no-name female were probably in a bar prior to checking in at the Seaside. Which bar exactly would take time to find out, even if it was located within the neighborhood. After midnight, on a very early Wednesday morning, most of them were closed.
The detective wasn’t a superstitious man, but homicide victims have a way of talking from the afterlife. When someone dies, their lives are openly discussed by their loved ones. Some of their secrets also surface, as people feel safer sharing information about the deceased. With the help of a warrant, access to their bank records, mobile data, and testimonies given by acquaintances, it will reveal more about someone than what they were willing to confess to a priest.
Talk to me, Javier. I’m listening.
Winters expected to meet Escalera’s family within the next hour, but he had some cleansing to do first.
Outside the Seaside Motel, a couple of ESU officers used a hose attached to the NYPD’s emergency unit truck to spray disinfectant liquid across Winters’ Tyvek suit. Standing on a gutter, the city’s sewers consumed the disinfectant and any toxic microbes annihilated by the unbearably odorous formula of sodium hypochlorite.
After being rinsed from head to toe, Winters removed his gloves and the suit, ultimately recovering his trench coat. He returned to the motel’s main entrance where over a dozen armed officers in patrol uniform guarded the area and waited for further instructions, including the sergeant who greeted him upon arriving.
“Fellas,” Winters said, “how are the manager and the front desk girl doing?”
“Still in the ambulances,” the sergeant said.
“Okay,” Winters said, “I’m going to talk to her. I need someone to get the manager—what’s his name, McCoy?”
“Yes,” the sergeant said.
“I need him to give us access to the SC footage ASAP. Get him to comply. I don’t care if he’s shitting bricks. Where’s the girl?”
“That one,” the sergeant pointed to the ambulance parked on the next block corner up north.
As Winters’ eyes located it, he spotted two press vans from NBC and CBS parked behind the crime scene perimeter.
“No word to the press yet. Corona or the chief will do that. If anyone asks, we got everybody out of the motel safely. Have we collected enough names and info from motel occupants?”
“Yeah,” the sergeant said, “Officer Tanaka is compiling the list.”
“Alright,” and he receded from the sergeant.
About thirty paces, walking past the line of emergency trucks lining the curb, Winters briskly approached the FDNY ambulance that sat quietly with its rear doors closed.
Knock, knock, knock.
A young, male paramedic in gloves and a facial mask opened it, revealing Shirley Lime resting on a gurney, perspiring and reddish from the shock of what had occurred at the motel. She received oxygen with the help of a female paramedic sitting next to her who also had her hands and face covered.
Winters remained outside as a precaution.
“Hello, dear,” he smiled. “I’m Detective Winters. I just have a few questions, if you don’t mind me asking, sweetie. I promise this will be quick.”
Shirley nodded.
“Do you remember if Mr. Escalera and his companion came in a cab or Uber car, or on foot?
“I… don’t know if they were in a car” her voice was slightly coarse and slow. “They may have been dropped off at the corner but… I wouldn’t know.”
“From your point of view, where you were standing at your post, do you remember if they were walking from the left or the right before they stepped in?”
Shirley gently pulled the oxygen mask down, leaving it on her chin.
“I only noticed him when they were already inside.”
“Okay,” Winters said. “How drunk would you say the deceased, Javier Escalera, was when he checked in?”
“Very,” her eyes widened with a nod.
“Did he say anything about where he was before checking in?”
“Not really. He only wanted a room for a few hours, but gave him the twelve-hour booking.
Plenty to fuck each other’s brains out.
“Oh, yeah,” Shirley said, “the woman he was with, stayed outside while he was paying.”
“Can you describe her?”
Shirley’s eyes drifted to empty space, recollecting. “She had blonde hair, wavy-like. She was shorter than him, but… she kept her head down as she walked past me… sort of, like, hiding behind the man, like she didn’t want me to see her.”
“What about her clothes?”
“Hmm… they were dark. Had something of a skirt on. Maybe a black jacket but I couldn’t really see her much ‘cause she stayed outside, and the man was blocking her.”
“Alright,” Winters started walking back, somewhat upset he was unable to get much from the front desk clerk, “thank you, Shirley.”
“Wait!” Shirley said.
“Yes?” Winters stopped.
“Was the man sick? Did he have some sort of virus?”
“Detective?” a tan skinned officer in patrol clothing walked over to Winters from the hotel.
Winters noticed but turned to Shirley. “We’re waiting on the results, but we’ll let you know.”
He turned to the officer. “Yes?”
“A man showed up, says he’s the general manager and can access the SC from his personal laptop.”
“Name?”
The officer handed over the work ID of Samuel Wilson, a mid-fifties, ginger-skinned man with a goatee, balding scalp, and thin glasses.
“Where is he?” said Winters.
“On the other side.”
“Alright, have him give us the motel’s security footage starting from… six hours ago. I want all cameras. Then give it to Simonelli.”
“You got it,” said the officer.
Randall needed a few minutes by himself to get his thoughts together. He returned to the driver’s seat of his black VW sedan and closed the door. 
When keeping track of an ongoing investigation in the City of New York, law enforcement personnel used a highly sophisticated cloud software that provided information on criminal records, license plate numbers, citizens involved in closed or open cases, among other police-related departmental databases. The Case Management System could also be accessed through mobile devices, desktop computers, or dashboard-mounted screens in official vehicles.
Winters kept a metal-concealed tablet underneath the driver’s seat that he used to browse the CMS or any other police platform. He preferred tablets over mobile devices. His aging eyesight made it difficult to read details on his phone.
After unlocking the system using his username and password, Randall went to his browser of case files and quickly spotted Javier Escalera’s records which Simonelli had already begun uploading. The victim’s driver’s license was there too, describing the address: 871-A 91st street, Queens, NY.
You didn’t go far from home to cheat on your spouse.
Detective Winters longed to read the domestic disturbance report Simonelli had mentioned. With Javier having a police record, the CMS included a PDF file where the info read:

September 4th, 2024 – Officers Norman Brown and Skyler Toole, Queens Patrol, were dispatched for a 10-52-D at 9:13PM to suspect’s address. Javier Escalera, household head, arrived home at approx. 8:30PM intoxicated. Neighbors called reporting hearing screams, glass broken, banging coming from the house. 

Isabella Escalera, Javier’s spouse, answered the door nervous and crying. Some home items were broken on the floor. Spouse said she had asked Javier for a divorce and got upset. Javier got more agitated when seeing police. 

Officers requested Javier to sit down and calm himself. Suspect complied, but was highly emotional by the divorce matter. Officer Toole suggested Javier to relocate so his family could rest and feel safer.

Javier packed a bag and relocated to a cousin’s apartment in Jamaica, Queens. Isabella and the minors (Esmeralda 3, Penelope 5) were not harmed physically. Case referred to the DVU and ACS. Isabella was advised to contact authorities if Javier causes another incident.

Winters studied the box that checked what actions the suspect committed that evening:

✓Destroyed property

✓Impaired alcohol/drugs

✓Intimidating/doercion

✓Kicking

✓Punching

✓Threw items

✓Verbal abuse

No threats, injuries or use of a weapon were marked. This could mean that Javier Escalera may exhibit violent behavior, but can exercise self-control in the presence of others while under the influence. 
If you were murdered with clear intent, you were probably too inebriated to defend yourself.
Being ten steps ahead was Winters’ modus operandi, at least in his mind. Surprises were bound to happen, and he had to be prepared for whatever that was coming.
He had nothing so far. Room 1027 was starting to look like a cluttered crime scene, where numerous pieces of evidence were present, but offered no theory or leads to explain what happened. It would take several hours before the autopsy could determine what made Javier Escalera lose so much blood, and uncover if there was intent to kill.
Criminal courts don’t care much about what motivated someone to slaughter. They are more keen on hard evidence to sentence perpetrators, but motive is the most helpful tool detectives need to solve a case. Behind every motive, there is a story. That story will help Randall Winters piece all the details together to discover what sprung Javier’s barbarous fate. More importantly, it will help him find the no-name blonde who might have all the answers to what occurred. Even if she had no blame in Javier’s death, she could be questioned and processed for not reporting the incident to the police.
I wanna go back to bed and dream with that stripper again.
When a detective has nothing to work with yet, he is left with instinct. Everything about the Escalera murder, the dubious crime scene, the gory sighting, the fleeing suspect, hollered that this was perpetuated by something bigger than a mere accident or casual death. Rather, by the darkest precipices of human nature.
I love and hate this case already.
Detective Winters loved solving puzzles, but he had reached an age where he had little tolerance for digging into the narratives assassins built in their minds to justify horrendous atrocities.

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