The other annie, p.25
THE OTHER ANNIE, page 25
I left the store and was about to drive back to The Rinky Dink when I saw a T-Mobile store across the street.
Having a backup phone that no one knew the number for might be a good idea.
I walked over to the store, and within fifteen minutes, I had my own “burner” phone. It was that simple.
At that point, I returned to The Rinky Dink.
A quick thought came to mind, and it was a menacing one.
If they were trying to kill me, is there anyone else who could have been in the line of fire? My mind immediately went to Gina Galasso. She was the only person - besides myself - who knew who ‘The Other Annie’ referred to. And while my testimony would be hearsay, Gina’s would not.
If someone had ears to my investigation, it hadn’t been a secret I’d met with Gina. Several people knew.
I was on edge as I reached for my phone. Gina probably wouldn’t answer a number she didn’t recognize, so I used my own phone.
I expected Gina to answer the call, and my nerves would be calmed.
But that didn’t happen.
The phone rang and rang and rang to no avail. I left Gina a message asking her to call me immediately. I did the same with a text.
I tried back ten minutes later and then twenty minutes later.
Nothing.
I tried calling an hour later and then two hours later. It was past 8:00 p.m. at this point.
Still nothing.
I was now seriously worried something had happened to Gina Galasso.
Chapter 39
BOBBY
Iknew what I had to do.
It took me a minute to remember the name of her apartment complex: The Shores. It was ironic, considering the place was a dump, and even though it was in Santa Monica, it was a good half mile from the Pacific Ocean.
“The Shores,” a male voice answered.
I had a feeling this guy would be about as talkative as the guy from The Rinky Dink.
“I’m friends with Gina Galasso, a tenant at The Shores, and I haven’t been able to reach her for several days.”
A little exaggeration was warranted.
“Okay.”
“And I was wondering if you could do a welfare check?”
“We ain’t supposed to do that ourselves,” he said.
“Can you ask the police?”
“I suppose I could.”
“Well then, will you? It’s been a week since I’ve gotten ahold of her. I’m worried.”
“It hasn’t been no week. I saw Gina yesterday morning. Maybe she doesn’t want to see you, but she certainly hasn’t been missing that long.”
He’d caught me in a lie and rubbed it in my nose, but arguing with the guy was unnecessary. He’d probably just take longer if I pressed him.
“Maybe I’m wrong about how long it’s been, but I’m very concerned.”
“What’s your name and number?"
“My name is Bobby McGowan, and my phone number is 805-555-2752.”
“Okay, Mr. McGowan, either the Santa Monica police department or I will get back to you. It’s already eight p.m., so maybe later tonight, but if not, tomorrow morning.”
“Please try your best to make it tonight.”
“I’ll try,” he said, but his voice didn’t convince me.
I got off the phone.
I tried Gina one more time myself, but she didn’t answer.
There was a logical reason why she wouldn’t want to talk to me. I’d brought her nothing but grief since coming into her life. It only worsened after I asked her what ‘The Other Annie’ meant.
I could hardly blame her if she didn’t want to talk to me.
And yet, I felt this was something more ominous. I didn’t think it was Gina ignoring my phone calls. Call it a hunch.
If the Bannies were going after me, it would also make sense to go after her.
I had to warn her. I couldn’t just sit at my motel, waiting to hear back.
Thirty-five minutes later, I was pulling into The Shores.
I walked up to Gina’s apartment and knocked on the door. On my way over, I called two more times with no luck.
There was no answer, so I knocked again.
I tried looking in the apartment, but the drapes were mostly closed. I could see through a tiny little section, and I peeked in.
I saw a lamp lying on the ground. It was hardly proof there had been a struggle, but that’s still where my thoughts went.
I had to get into her apartment.
I hadn’t come all this way not to.
I walked a few feet from the apartment and made a phone call.
“The Shores.”
“This is Bobby McGowan. I called earlier about Gina Galasso.”
“Listen, I told you this might not happen till tomorrow. I saw Gina yesterday. I’m sure she’s fine.”
“Do you live on site?”
“Yes. I’m down on the lower level.”
“Well, get up to Gina’s apartment. I’m up here. And bring your universal key.”
“Sir, I can’t just let you into Gina’s apartment without a good reason.”
“Get up here right freaking now and bring the damn key. If not, I’ll call the police myself.”
I heard him grunt, but I think I’d gotten through to him.
A few minutes later, a man way too old to be looking after an apartment complex approached Gina’s place.
“Son, you can’t just pop into people’s apartments without a good reason.”
“Listen to me, old man,” I said. “Gina is in danger, and I looked into her apartment. It looks like World War III in there.”
A tipped-over lamp was hardly World War III, but exaggeration continued to be warranted.
“Gina’s not known for her cleanliness.”
“If you don’t open the door right now, I will kick the glass window in.”
He got the point and fuddled around with his keys.
“If she’s in there naked or with some guy, this is on you.”
“Fine,” I said.
He opened the door and then took a step back.
I took a step into the apartment and called Gina’s name.
No answer.
The lamp was on the ground, but besides that, the place looked cleaner than usual. There were no half-filled ashtrays or clothes spread all over the ground. In fact, the lamp had a cord tied around the bottom of it, and it looked like it had been set on its side intentionally.
This should have put my mind at ease, but I still had a sinking feeling. I made my way toward what had to be her bedroom. I shouted her name twice but got no response.
I put my hand on the doorknob. I didn’t want to do this, but I knew in my heart that I had to.
Please, please, please don’t be dead, Gina!
I slowly turned the doorknob and looked inside.
Chapter 40
BOBBY
Gina’s body was contorted at a weird angle, and I knew she was dead.
I walked to the bed, and my worst nightmare had come true. Gina was lying on her back, her hands covering her face. One leg was spread out wide, and the other knee was bent upward, partially covering her lower abdomen, almost like she was trying to block something.
She had blood stains all over her chest area. She was wearing a white nightgown, and it was apparent she’d been shot. Because she was wearing nightwear, I figured it happened late last night or early this morning.
More than anything, I wanted to grab Gina’s hand and tell her how sorry I was. I’d gotten her into this. Not because of any malicious intent, but I’d still been the one to reel her back into the Annie Ryan case.
But I knew I couldn’t touch her hand. I couldn’t risk contaminating a crime scene.
So, instead, I just sat on the ground next to her and started crying.
“Oh, Gina, I’m so sorry. You deserved so much better.”
I wiped my eyes, knowing this wasn’t the right time. Even my tears could contaminate the scene.
A few seconds later, I heard the old man.
“Is everything alright in there?” he yelled.
“No, it’s not. Call the Santa Monica Police right now.”
“Are you sure?”
“Do you want to come back here yourself?”
My point got through.
“I’ll call them right now. Should I say there’s a dead body?”
“Yes.”
I turned my attention back to Gina.
“I’m going to find whoever did this to you, and they will suffer. I can promise you that, Gina. I’m so sorry.”
I couldn’t help myself and continued to weep for a few more seconds. I snapped out of it when I heard the old man talking on the phone outside.
“Yeah, I think there’s a dead body. The guy won’t let me go look myself.”
I had to make a quick decision.
Did I want to hang around and be grilled by the Santa Monica police all night? Would my name get out to other branches of the LAPD? Could Mike Minter notify Ed Bannie that I was being interviewed? Could they detain me overnight? Could they have me killed in jail?
So many questions popped into my mind. Some were probably a little outrageous, but I was a nervous wreck. And who could blame me? I was kneeling next to a dead body.
I stood up.
“I’m sorry, Gina, but I have to go. I’m going to find the people responsible and make them pay.”
I quickly walked out of her bedroom and then out of the apartment. The old man was still there.
“Is Gina dead?”
“Yes.”
I started heading toward the stairs.
“Where are you going? You have to wait for the police.”
“Tell them I’ll call them.”
“You can’t just leave.”
“Watch me,” I said and leaped down the stairs two at a time.
I arrived at my car, took a side street to Wilshire Boulevard, and then headed east on Wilshire back toward Hollywood.
Had I made a mistake?
While the Hollywood precinct of the LAPD had jurisdiction over the Hollywood Hills - where Annie was killed, and Beverly Hills - where I was potentially targeted - they did not have jurisdiction over Santa Monica.
I wouldn’t have had to deal with Mike Minter.
Maybe if I told the SMPD my theory of who killed Gina, they would listen.
And yet, I knew I wasn’t going to turn around.
I would contact the SMPD and talk to them by phone. Something told me that I should avoid going to a police station, even if it was just to answer questions.
Two police cars with their lights on flew by me.
When Santa Monica turned into Brentwood, I grabbed my phone.
“Hello?”
“William, this is Bobby. I’m coming up to your house.”
“You realize it’s past nine p.m. I’m an old man and getting ready for bed.”
“It’s important.”
“Alright, I’ll meet you outside of my study.”
I made my way to the Hollywood Hills and parked in my usual spot.
I walked down the steps, and William waited outside.
“Come in,” he said.
We walked into his study. William sat down at his desk. I remained standing. I had too much nervous energy to sit.
“They killed Gina Galasso,” I said.
I held back tears. By saying it out loud, it made it all the more real.
“What? Gina Galasso is dead?”
“Yes. She was shot in the chest. She had her arms and one of her legs up, trying to protect herself, but that didn’t do any good.”
Maybe I was giving William too much of the gory details, but the visual wouldn’t leave my mind.
“Who did this?”
“I think you know.”
“Wade or Ed Bannie?”
“It has to be,” I said. “Maybe they hired that goon I saw, but they are behind it.”
“Goon?”
I realized I hadn’t told him.
“What happened?” he asked.
I told him about seeing the guy outside of the valet and then his van blocking the parking garage five minutes later.
“That could just be a coincidence,” William said.
“Tell that to Gina Galasso.”
William just shrugged.
“I don’t think any of this is a coincidence,” I continued. “They were trying to ambush me. I’m sure of it.”
“By ambush, do you mean kill you?”
“What do you think?”
I felt defeated. Gina hadn’t been my responsibility, but I still felt massive guilt over her death.
I continued to be a nervous ball of energy, walking the room's perimeter. I started looking at some of William's framed photos on the wall—anything to prevent Gina’s body from popping into my head.
“Did you find Gina’s body?” William asked.
“Yes. She didn’t answer my phone call, and I got suspicious. Especially after what happened to me today.”
I looked at another of William’s photos, trying to distract myself. It wasn’t working. The visual of Gina’s arms crossing her face kept coming back to me.
“If you found the body, why aren’t the police talking to you?”
“Because I left the crime scene.”
“Bobby, Bobby, Bobby. You can’t just leave a crime scene.”
“Well, I just did.”
“They will find out who you are.”
“I’m sure they will. I just couldn’t do it tonight. I’ll call them in the morning.”
“How long ago did this happen?”
“I came straight here.”
“Then it’s not too late.”
My anger got the best of me.
“Listen, William. I’m not freaking going back to that crime scene. Not tonight. Seeing Gina’s body like that was too much for me.”
I looked up at another photo on the wall. This one was of William and the Mayor of Los Angeles.
“Alright, calm down, Bobby. This is hitting you hard. That’s easy to see.”
“Gina opened up to me about who ‘The Other Annie’ really was, and it cost her her life.”
“You don’t know that for sure.”
“You got another explanation?” I asked.
“Didn’t Gina have a bit of a drug problem?” he asked.
“She may have. Why?”
“Maybe it was a drug deal gone bad.”
It wasn’t impossible.
“All I’m saying, Bobby, is you don’t know for certain that her death is related to your investigation. That’s why you should return to the crime scene and talk to the police.”
“Stop bringing that up. It’s not going to happen.”
William was still sitting at his desk. I continued to walk around the other side of his expansive study like a chicken with my head cut off.
I looked up at another framed photograph. There were seven men, and in front of them was a shovel in the ground. They were breaking ground on something.
William was on the far left. The guy on his immediate left looked familiar.
Who was he? I wracked my brain.
And then, my whole body froze.
It was the guy from earlier today. The guy at the valet. The guy who stepped out from the van.
How the fuck did he know William Ryan? Or, more importantly, how did William know him?
I started to tense up. I felt a sudden urge to get out of there. People had alluded to William’s temper - which I had seen firsthand - and others had suggested I was just a pawn in his scheme.
Had William been involved this whole time? I had to get the hell out of this study.
I looked over, but William wasn’t looking in my direction. I quickly grabbed my phone and took a picture of the photo, putting the phone back in my pocket before William looked over.
“Would you like a drink, Bobby? You’ve had a tough day.”
“Listen, I have to go,” I said.
William rose from his chair.
“But you just got here.”
“It’s been a long day. I should sleep.”
It certainly had, but that’s not why I needed to leave.
I beat William to the door of his study and opened it.
“I really have to go,” I said.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost, Bobby. Are you sure you don’t want to stay a while longer? Come have a drink.”
GET OUT OF THERE, my mind yelled.
“I can’t. I have to go.”
I sprinted up the stairs toward my car.
William walked outside of his study but remained on the lower level. He was seventy years old and couldn’t keep up with me.
“Are you still at the Beverly Hilton?” he asked.
After what I’d just seen, there was no way in hell I was telling William about the Rinky Dink Motel.
“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”
“Well, because of this guy you saw. Maybe it scared you.”
“I’m still at the Beverly Hilton,” I said.
And with that, I opened my car door, got in, and sped off like a driver in the Indianapolis 500.
When I arrived back at the Rinky Dink, I reversed my car into a spot so no one could see my license plate. I went into my room, turned off all the lights, and snuck into bed.
With the exception of the day my mother died, this had been the longest day of my life.
I turned my phone off. I’m sure the SMPD was asking the old man who I was, and if they got a name, maybe they would track my phone.
I could deal with all of that tomorrow.
For now, I was a man in need of some sleep.
As I lay down, my immediate thoughts went to Gina. I couldn’t believe she was gone. She’d opened up to me on our last two visits, and I was starting to see the sweet young girl she’d been once upon a time.
I hope you didn’t suffer for long, Gina.
And even while thinking about Gina, another thought was never far from my mind: Was William Ryan somehow part of all this? Had he been pulling the strings all along?
