Identity Crisis: A mystery with more twists and turns than an old country road by H. E. Rodda

Author:H. E. Rodda [Rodda, H. E.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2016-08-31T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 19

New York City, August 17, 1981

It had been more than three weeks since Sorrento’s team had begun their search of all the records, and during that time Sorrento had questioned Mason extensively. His focus had been on Mason’s activities between July 5 and 8, repeatedly asking him about his whereabouts during that time. “What time did you leave the restaurant? When did you return to the condominium? Did you go anywhere on the sixth? The seventh? The eighth? Did you call anyone during that time?” Over and over, it was the same questions. In the course of things, Sorrento told Mason that they’d interviewed Enrique Moreno and the girl, Tina, about the night of the Fourth.

“According to the girl, she took you to her place sometime after midnight. She says that the two of you had sex. Is that correct?”

“I’ve told you, the last thing I remember is the restaurant. If she says that’s what we did, then I guess we did.”

“She also says she dropped you off at the condo around four thirty that morning, that you insisted on going home because you had to be there for a cruise with your family. Does that ring any bells?”

“How many times do I have to say this? No!”

It was the same old stuff every time Sorrento and he would meet. Then on August 17, Sorrento called. “We’ve finished our initial review of your records, Mr. Razalas, and we have a few more questions to ask before we wrap this thing up. Could you come down to my office?” Reluctantly, Mason had gone.

Sorrento’s office was located in an old two-story brick building in a sleazy neighborhood on the Lower East Side, not the kind of place Mason would have expected for an agency of this magnitude. Someone led him to a small room with dull green walls, where he was left to await Sorrento’s arrival. There was nothing in the room but an old wooden table and three chairs. It seemed like forever before Sorrento came in.

“Mr. Razalas, we’ve finished our preliminary examination of all your records. You’ll be glad to know that by tomorrow afternoon, they’ll be yours again, but they do raise a few more questions. What do you know about a company called International Relief Fund?”

Sitting casually in his chair, Mason answered, “It’s a not-for-profit company that distributes food and medicine to Third World countries. Why?”

Sorrento ignored Mason’s question, continuing his own. “And Bill Slade—do you know him?”

“Yes, we’ve met several times. We transport the items I’ve mentioned for him, but that’s common knowledge. My father has done that sort of thing for years. I asked you, why?”

“I’ll tell you why. For some time now we’ve been investigating your company as a possible source of drug distribution. We’ve—”

Mason suddenly sat erect, interrupting Sorrento as he did. “That’s bullshit!”

Sorrento hesitated for a second, looking menacingly straight into Mason’s eyes. Mason allowed his body to relax, and Sorrento continued. “As I was saying, we’ve been investigating your company for some time.

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