• Increase font size
  • Default font size
  • Decrease font size
Home Crime Stories The Gift

The Gift

E-mail Print
Tell others about this story! Over 300 choices.

The two Detectives from NYPD's Manhattan South Homicide Squad were doing the old "hurry up and wait" routine familiar to most members of the NYPD. The order came to show up FORTHWITH at 0800 hours, June 15th 1999. The two cops were awaiting the determination of another “high level” meeting.  This meeting was with the District Attorney of New York, New York County.

The Detectives were sitting on an old worn heavy mahogany bench.

The bench sat in the outside corridor of the suite of Executive offices.  Many a cop has set his ass on this exact bench for this same stupid purpose.

He’s been in dere width dat guy and his fuckin’ lawyers for about two hours.” Detective First Grade Vinny “The Guinea” Mastoriellio softly said.

The Detectives were not invited to the meeting held in the inner sanctum of the offices occupied by the top law enforcement officer in New York City.  So what else is new? They expected such and knew when detailed outside as a resource.

The two might be summoned as small and superfluous utilitarian cog. Just needed to provide a smidgen of insignificant information. The District Attorney enjoyed having the NYPD at his beck and call. If not called, they’d wait there until dismissed.

“Not for Nuttin” Vinny said adjusting his tie in the classic trademark of the legendary comic Rodney Dangerfield. “Dis whole ting is turning into a fuckin’ circus.

What sort o’ deal could dis guy get with dat fantastic story?” Detective Second Grade Rheinado (Ronnie) Golonzzio  whispered.

“I dunno, those fuckin’ media whores are crawling all over dis one,” Vinny responded.

Vinny stared down the 1930’s era marble walled and dark mahogany wood trimmed hallway. It shined with reflected sunlight off the highly buffed geometric patterned alternating square and diamond shaped marble black-and-white floor.

There they were, a few bloodsucking tabloid reporters.  All were loitering by the gold ornate elevator bank. One of the last non-automatic human operated elevator banks in the city.

The Barbarian hordes clamoring at the gates of Rome.

“Theysez ready to eat one of dier own.” Vinny added after a pause.

“Yea, theysez total fuckin’ cannibals, ‘specially dose tabloids” Ronnie answered. Dere’s dat broad again, da congenital asshole from Page Six.” (The tacky and tasteless Gossip page of the New York Post.)

“I’d fuck ‘er,” said Vinny with his sly smile.

He rolled that signature gold plated tooth pick around his mouth with his thumb and index finger. Those digits were two of his ten manicured and clear glossed finger nails.

“Think she swallows?” Ronnie rhetorically asked.

The two PRDs (Pinky Ringed Detectives) exchanged shit eating grins.

Both of them knew of a Lieutenant from the Midtown North Detective Squad who was banging that juicy looking receptacle.

“Word is, she loves taking it up the ass from cops. Then sucking them off - And -  After the guy shoots his load, as the bitch prepares to swallow, she holds it in her mouth with her big cheeks bulging out. Then, with a big shit eating smile she points to her mouth,” Ronnie salaciously said. “Then in one big gulp, she swallows!” He adds.

The two Detectives laughed and then returned to discussing the case. “I gotta admit, I thought it was all fuckin’ bullshit when da 13th Squad called me in, but youse can’t discount all dat shit he said dat The Major Case Squad substantiated so far,” Vinny reasoned.

The two seasoned detectives then settled down into a silent wait. Somewhat resembling that experienced by expectant fathers in a maternity ward. But No Cigars. Their silence broke when appraising the business suited, professional women attorneys passing them by. Their heels were clicking and echoing from the marble floors bouncing into the cavernous hallway.

The women summarily dismissed them as what they were:  Two New York City Police Department Ethnic PRD’s dressed in Guido looking suits. Another identifier for the ladies was the copious amounts of obnoxiously perfumed aftershave emanating from the bench. They were not worthy of any consideration by these women.

Intellectually or sexually.

Vinny said to Ronnie, ”That last tall broad looked like she’s suffering from ALS.”

Ronnie looked puzzled “ALS?”

Yea, Abner Louima Syndrome you know like she got a bathroom plunger shoved uper ass!” laughed “Vinny the Guinea.

Note: Abner Loumia was a victim of alleged Police Brutality in the 70 Pct. where he was sodimized by a police officer with bathroom plunger in the 1997. It became the “butt” of jokes among NYPD cops.

So there they sat, two fast fading caricatures of what soon will describe a dinosaur NYPD Pinky Ringed Detective of Italian American Descent.


Caviler Belmondo was a successful freelance reporter/writer. The thirty something year old was a tall, blonde, good-looking California Surfer type. He sported an English accent. The “Golden Boy” always seemed to have the exclusive inside track of any juicy story. The type of story senior editors of tabloid print, television or the new internet were seeking for their publications in 1999, right before the New Millennium.

He had the knack to put the sizzle into sizzling. But Caviler continuously tried to keep a low profile. He was in reality Jaromir Ramonic, an illegal immigrant from Canada via Slovenia.

If his true identity was discovered, the life he had constructed and now enjoyed would fall like house of cards. Not even a scintilla of his false and self constructed Canadian frontier background was true.

That is why Jaromir wanted to report the story, not be the story. He was on the outer fringes of becoming a “celebrity.” That means soon he’d be a favorite of the Paparazzi.

The traditional hunter becoming the hunted.

He could not let that happen for several reasons. Jaromir loved his life, he made excellent money, but he existed on the razor’s edge. It was getting to be too risky. The editors wanted more and more information on his sources and himself.

To gain and maintain entry to the circle of people who produced the stories the editors wanted, he had to be Caviler Belmondo. That identity perpetuates his position in a rarified social orbit. This is why his stylish and financially rewarding lifestyle remains in tact.

But now Caviler has gotten himself into some deep shit. It could keep him in jail for the next 25 years or maybe life. Even if he beats it, he will now be recognizable world wide.  In addition, the exposure of his roots and his methods or as the cops say modus operandi will be a total disaster.

As he sits in the Executive Office of The District Attorney with his lawyers, he contemplates his past and his future.


Jaromir’s father and mother were a Rumanian mix of Gypsy culture. The family somehow illegally landed in Canada when Jaromir was an infant. Jaromir was a natural at having to become someone else in moments notice. Somehow the recessive jeans of his swarthy parents produced a blonde Adonis: Jaromir. The family used his WASPISH good looks to their advantage in their “business” arrangements. Or as better described by Canadian law enforcement authorities: “scams.”

Jaromir was selected by his Gypsy Great Grandmother Vadoma to become entrusted with the “gift.” Over the last 102 years of her life, she has envisioned none of her family deserving of this sacred Gypsy gift. She thought the gift would die with her. She would be cursed for eternity for not relinquishing the gift as dictated to her upon her acceptance of said gift.

By what she believes was divine intervention, Vadoma would stay alive until seeing Jaromir in a vision. He was the one the prophets destined to inherit the gift.

The gift transferred to Jaromir on his 20th birthday. In the next year, when Jaromir finally understood how use it, Vadoma suddenly and peacefully died the next evening in her sleep.

Jaromir followed her instructions. He revealed nothing about the existence of the gift to any other family member. He was to make of it what he desired. It was fine if Jaromir never used it at all.

Vadoma decided to never use the gift and did not share the reason for her decision with Jaromir. But he swore and thus was mandated to pass the gift on to another generation so it would not die.

Jaromir was now the sole keeper and present arbiter of the gift for whatever means he desired.


At 25, Jaromir was ready to leave Canada for the United States. He had disowned the infinitesimals of gypsy culture.  He completely and consciously assimilated. Jaromir despised he came from gypsy blood. He could not help but feel inferior. Jaromir has always let the negative opinions and stereotypes of others shape his concept of self.

Upon completion of the assimilation task, Jaromir had to decide on how to incorporate his aspirations into an implementation of the gift. This incorporation is a paradigm to reach more than just an entry in his new chosen career.

With the gift bequeathed by Vadoma, he envisioned the possibility of total success.  The industry hub of his new career path was in New York City. He wanted to enter the glitzy world of reporting and writing about the “Beautiful People.”

Jaromir had grown up in Canada mesmerized by celebrity. He was an avid reader of People Magazine and a devoted viewer of “Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous.” He would emulate Robin Leach (the British host of LSRF) by perfecting and keeping as his own, the distinctive Robin Leach English accent.


A group of Canadian gypsies snuck Jaromir into the United States and provided counterfeit credentials for a hefty price. A beautiful gypsy girl Tsura, (Slavic for "light of dawn”) he had known growing up in Canada was amongst them. She was now “Dawn.”

At the end to the trip, she softly kissed him goodbye. Her eyes told a story of unrequited love for Jaromir. He suddenly felt something strong for Dawn. Jaromir then felt empty at the prospect of leaving her.

She was only twelve years old when her family forced her to marry a rich, old, obese, swarthy gypsy businessman named Boldo. Boldo died of a heart attack before the marriage could be consummated with the act of  him deflowering Tsura.

Boldo’s younger brother Zindelo (age 40) claimed Tsura in the name of his family and married her. Her second husband died (shot and killed) within a week of their marriage during a dispute with the Canadian Hells Angels.

But he got to soil her. Since then, no gypsy man will even look at her, let alone take her as a wife. They believe at birth she must have been a victim of an amira (curse.)

“Unbelievable for such a beauty.” The Gypsy  elders agreed.

But Jaromir pledged to rid himself all gypsy infinitesimals. They would become part of his hidden history. That includes anyone who knew his true roots. That means Dawn.

Jaromir made it to New York City and made it big, using his natural talents supplemented by the gift.

Or was it visa versa?


Jaromir’s prime objective was to get to the heart of juicy stories. He would retrieve the inner thoughts of the essential characters holding the scandalous details. This quest involved his sexual abilities while using the gift. Jaomir's good looks coupled with his totally fabricated history helped him in the seduction of those unwilling to relinquish the facts. The gift allows Jaromir access to their inner thoughts during sexual activity.  He only engaged in homosexual activity when absolutely necessary.


Meanwhile, back at the Manhattan District Attorney’s office: Caviler Belmondo (They still don’t know Caviler’s true identity, but he knows they may discover that info soon Hopefully not his true name or gypsy background until a deal is struck) instructs his attorney in a low whisper. The lawyer is to tell the story Caviler told the cops at the 13th Pct. Detective Squad. Caviler, knowing those facts have been substantiated by the NYPD,  they will complete and corroborate the story  now told by his lawyer.

Caviler’s lawyer tells the DA of Caviler’s self-assignment to get the impossible interview of the century. He wanted to get the juicy and gory true details from Karen Kisnewski. She is a former nurse know as the “New Jersey Angel of Death.”

Karen was making sensational headlines. She was arrested, tried and found not guilty for a series of murders of patients in several New Jersey hospitals. Karen was a genius as well as a  serial killer who cleverly beat the system. She had the best legal team money can buy.

But it was her cunning and genius that did amazingly beat the system.

How did she accomplish that? Karen, an only child, inherited millions of dollars (estimates range as high as $75 million.) Her parents mysteriously died in a tragic accident involving carbon monoxide poisoning in their New Jersey mansion. No one ever suspected the child genius of perpetrating this crime.

But she did.

Karen inexplicably became a nurse after that tragedy,to dedicate her life to saving sick people. But then something happened. Her control over an insatiable desire to kill evaporated.                      During her trial and after her acquittal, Karen would never talk to the press.  Offered millions for her memoirs, she has refused.

Karen remains an enigma -  a wealthy enigma.

Nobody knows what is going on in her mind. She baffled both the court appointed psychological team and her own team of experts as well.

Caviler saw this as the ultimate journalistic challenge.

All he had to do was devise a way to have sex her. It would be the scoop of the century!              Caviler has not shared the fact he had decided it would be worth the risk of his exposure as Jaromir to seek Karen and discover and report on her inner thoughts using the gift.

Hopefully, he wishes, law enforcement will never know his true identity.


Caviler hired private detectives for an around the clock 27/7/365 study of Karen’s habits. He invested in a six month operation. The op produced thousands of pictures and schedules. He synthesized all intel down to a predictable equation of a probability and a variance of events, locations, people and routes.

It only took Caviler three weeks of trying to “accidentally” bump into and engage Karen. Her used an inspired different identity for himself. The two “met” in a controlled and contrived circumstance. Based on his intel, he knew what possible outcomes could be interpreted by Karen as natural.

But, anyway, they were so predictable to Caviler.

He was prepared for any direction this “surreptitious” meeting would take. He “borrowed” the identity of a reclusive and obscure writer Karen had unsuccessfully tried to contact during her trial. She was an avid fan of the writer before her notoriety.

Karen was photographed every day carrying one of the author books into court.  It started rumors swirling around as to her relationship with the mysterious author. The tabloids speculated about passages in the book she was reading and how they might have motivated Karen’s alleged killing spree.

Caviler took an entire week reading everything he could on this mysterious author. Besides reading every one of his books. Caviler's photographic memory aided in the deception. The incidentals of Karen and Caviler’s actual meet are not worth any concern and were pedestrian.                       That was the beauty and genius of it.

The two became fast friends and then lovers. After a few weeks of seeing each other, Caviler finally achieved his sexual penetration of Karen (Oral, Anal and Vaginal.) He gained all the truthful knowledge of  her murderous past, including some frightening homicidal fantasies.


“This is where it all goes south.” The Executive Assistant Attorney whispers to his boss as another one of Caviler’s lawyers continues the fantastic tale. “I want his lawyer to lay it all out for us, this way we can nail it down for when Caviler gives the allocution.” The ADA added.

After taking a long drink from the bottle of water in front of him, the lawyer continued: “Somehow, and my client does not know how, let's call it female intuition. Karen found out what had happened during the sexual encounter transference.”

She was furious.”

“Karen considered Caviler to be a spurious individual deserving immediate death.” The lawyer continued with his carefully crafted narration.

“Forensic evidence at the scene relates she did not let on to Caviler she now knew what the true circumstances of their relationship was at that point in time. Karen decided not to confront Caviler, but kill him with poison.”

She believed he deserved to meet death with slow and painful agony. Violating her inner most self made her loose control of her combined  Sun Tzu - Machiavellian talent. That was the genius which empowered the continuance of her executions as perfect crimes, if she so desired to renew that activity.” One of the other attorneys added.

“Instead, Karen obviously decided shoot him.” The female attorney stated.

“Caviler was contacted by a Dawn Wilson, a former friend who claimed she experienced a vision in which Caviler was poisoned by a woman named Karen. She also stated Karen was wearing a white nurses uniform in her vision. Caviler realized the similarities and took no chance “ She continued.

“He believed this friend somehow knew what would happen.” The lead attorney injected and took over the conversation. “He confronted Karen with the details of the vision at the meeting Karen had hastily arranged. According to my client, and to his confusion, Karen dressed in a white nurses uniform. My client realized Karen had lost it, and the fantastic premonition was actually becoming reality!”

“Karen grabbed her illegal firearm from her purse. My client tried to disarm her, the gun went off.  She was shot and immediately expired from her wound.”

Caviler has gained and now knows, through his sexual osmosis with Karen, all the New Jersey Angel of Death evidence.” The female attorney said.


The New Jersey authorities will be able to clear up the “New Jersey Angel of Death” unsolved murder mysteries. Caviler is “honored and humbled to confidentially provide closure to those grieving victim families.” He will keep those details secret for the rest of his life. They will never be published.

“He has shared for validation, some of that information with your colleagues in the NYPD. So now, what’s the deal?” asks the second chair attorney for Caviler.



The two PRD NYPD Detectives are still awaiting their instruction from the meeting. They are deciding where in Little Italy to dine later that evening. As the lawyers continued to wrangle, Caviler realizes that his own prior thought was always to pass the gift to Dawn. But he now knows, Dawn has the gift. Maybe even a better and more enhanced telepathic version? Neither of them was aware of the others possession of said gift at their meeting when Caviler was smuggled into the USA.

This discovery put both of them in a strange predicament. The kiss Dawn gave him was quite powerful. She wanted to continue to monitor Caviler.  She had always loved him and knew he always had loved her. She made that connection using the gift.

Caviler’s statement has always had one revision. The Truth about the gun. No struggle existed between Karen and himself for the gun. It was Dawn who was there, hiding when he arrived at the secluded rendezvous.

But he remains adamant it was he who shot Karen.

Dawn's existence was never a issue. He claims she was never there.

But in reality, it was Dawn in the struggle for the gun. Dawn was intent on killing Karen.


Dawn is and remains out of the picture. But actually, she isn’t. They stay in each others visions. Hopefully, the deal will set Caviler free or drastically reduce the time he must spend in prison.

Caviler swears when he gets out he will find Dawn .

So he will return to her as Jaromir.

Dawn swears she will find Caviler.

So she will return to him as Tsura.

Karen will be a long time dead.

For a more diverse selection of short stories visit:


Sign Up for Info!

Featured Stories

Written by: Vidal Martinez
I have to admit, at first it was exciting, somewhat intoxicating, and the sex – unbelievable. But now, there is something... Read more..

Written by: Patric Quinn
"I want you to take over the audit at XanderBio."   David Perry hadn’t even said ‘hello’ after walking into Walter... Read more..

Written by: Walter Willaert
There was that ice-cream parlour she had not been before. It was almost empty and she easily found a table at the window.... Read more..

Written by: Walter W. Leach
The first thing you learn is there’s always a price. They can tell you that ain’t true but sure as sure it’s true... Read more..

Buy Featured Story Placement