[Friendship & Honor 02.0] Murder Has Consequences Page 18

  Frankie stood up and tossed his coffee cup into the trash can. “Hurry up, Mazzetti.”

  “I gotta piss first. I’ll be a minute or two.”

  Sherri raised her eyebrows. “A minute or two? How long does it take you to piss?”

  Lou laughed. “Give me a break, Miller; it’s got a long way to travel.”

  Frankie shook his head while Miller laughed. “You fell for that one, rookie.”

  “Guess I haven’t heard all of the old-timer jokes yet. But I’m getting there.”

  “Keep working with him and you will.”

  While Lou was in the bathroom, Sherri grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge. “So I guess you know about me, right? I mean about what happened before I became a cop.”

  Frankie looked at her strangely. “I don’t run checks on people I work with, if that’s what you’re getting at. And unless it has something to do with your performance, I don’t need to know.”

  Sherri looked at him, then cast a quick glance at Lou, who was just returning, and shook her head. “No, nothing with performance.”

  “Then let’s get moving.”

  “Take your own car,” Lou said. “I’m riding with Miller.”

  ***

  SHERRI GOT INTO HER car, started it and headed out. Lou reached over and turned off the radio, looking at Sherri. “What, you thought I’d tell him about you?”

  “He’s your partner, I assumed—”

  “I told you, it was between you and me. That doesn’t mean you and me and Donovan. When I give my word, it’s good.”

  She blushed. “I guess I’m not used to that.”

  “Yeah, well, all I got is this old fedora I wear, a wife I haven’t been able to get rid of in thirty years, and my word.”

  At the next red light, Sherri looked at Lou through narrowed eyes, but with a smile. “You’re all right for a grumpy old guy. And tell that wife of yours she better watch out. She might have competition after all.”

  “Better take out life insurance if you plan to seduce me.”

  “Why? She the jealous type?”

  “I didn’t mean on you, I meant on me. If I get in bed with you, I’m afraid I won’t make it.”

  “You’re a card, Mazzetti. A damn card.”

  “Yeah, that’s me. Always an ace.”

  “So what’s Donovan like to work with? He seems nice enough.”

  Lou stared straight ahead for a moment. “Frankie’s a tough nut. He doesn’t cut anybody slack, but he’s fun to work with. And a damn good cop.”

  “Honest?” Sherri winced when she said it, afraid it might offend Lou.

  “Don’t believe what you hear in the hallways, Miller. Or the shit you hear in the bathrooms about him and women. I’ve been working with him a while now and I can tell you he’s a good guy.”

  “So those stories about him letting a killer go are just that—stories?”

  “I worked that case with him. If you think he did something wrong, you’ll have to think it of me, too.”

  They rode in silence for a few blocks, then Lou said, “I don’t mind, you know. You asking about it, I mean. I expected you to at some point. All I’m saying is, you can trust Frankie with your life.”

  “Fair enough. Case closed.”

  Sherri pulled into the parking garage and they got out and walked toward the building. Donovan was standing outside the front door, smoking. “About time,” he said, sucking hard on a cigarette then crushing it out.

  Lou walked right past him, holding the door open for Sherri. He looked at Donovan as if he’d been holding up the operation. “No sense wasting time, Donovan. Let’s get you back in the saddle.”

  “How are we handling this?” Sherri asked.

  “You take the lead,” Frankie said, pushing the button for the elevator. “We should line up several people to be interviewed to make it look as if we’re not singling her out, so for all she knows, we might be interviewing everyone.”

  “Why go to the trouble?” Sherri asked.

  The elevator opened and Frankie stepped aside, holding the door for her. “If she thinks she’s just one of a group, she’ll lie.”

  “But don’t we want her telling the truth?”

  “We’ll get the truth—don’t worry. But first we have to catch her in a lie. Once we do that, it’s easier to get her to tell the truth.”

  They got off on the fourth floor and started down the corridor. About halfway there, Frankie’s phone rang. He kept walking while he answered. “Donovan.”

  “Detective Donovan, this is Cindy Ellis, Channel 5.”

  “I remember you, Cindy. Long time.”

  “This isn’t a social call. A package was just delivered to me. It’s a person’s hand.”

  Frankie stopped, signaling Lou and Sherri to wait. “Goddamn! Don’t touch it.”

  “Do you think we’re nuts? I’m not getting near that thing.”

  “Did you tell anyone else? Who’s seen it?”

  “Just my assistant and my boss.”

  “Keep it that way. We’re on our way.”

  “What was that about?” Lou asked.

  “The affair lady will have to wait. That was Cindy Ellis. Someone delivered her a hand.”

  “Damn,” Sherri said, and started for the elevator.

  “Who’d the bastard kill now?” Lou asked.

  “I don’t know,” Sherri said, “But I’m sure we’re gonna find out.” She turned to Frankie. “Should we call Kate Burns?”

  The mention of her name excited Frankie. “I’ll call her. You know the way there?”

  “By heart. See you in a few.”

  CHAPTER 29

  Nothing Lasts Forever

  Wilmington, Delaware

  I was still worried about the guys following Rosa, and I figured the sooner I saw Donna, the faster I’d find out what was going on. I still had a few hours before Angie got home, time enough to chat with Donna. I made a turn going south on Clayton Street, turned right on Banning and then south on Coyne. Her house was a few blocks down.

  I parked, walked up and tapped on the door, but no one answered. I tried again, but again got no answer. On the third attempt, I knocked a little louder, making a neighbor pop her head out of the door and holler at me. “Donna’s at her mother’s house. Up on—”

  I waved. “Thanks, I know where she lives.”

  I got back in the car and despite not wanting to, I drove to her mother’s house. I had waited as long as I could before going to see Donna, knowing it wouldn’t be pleasant, but it was something that had to be done. The money was not only a big issue; it had to be the central issue. No way Bobby got that much cash legally. The bad thing was that she still blamed me for his death; hell, she probably blamed me for her father’s death.

  I parked with my right wheels on the sidewalk, like we used to in the old days, and got out of the car, wishing for the millionth time that I had a cigarette to calm me. Six concrete steps led up the hill. Gripping the old wrought-iron railing brought back a flood of memories from childhood when we raced up these steps to get each other up in the mornings, or crept up them to call each other out late at night. A smile covered my face as I tapped on the door.

  Donna opened it a few seconds later and stood there, staring at me with hatred in her eyes. “What the fuck do you want?”

  “I’m not here for the conversation, if that’s what’s worrying you. But I do have a few questions.”

  She started to shut the door. I jammed my foot in and held it open. “Not so fast, Donna. I’m trying to help Bugs.”

  “Since when have you tried helping anyone but yourself?”

  I pushed the door open and stepped inside. A baby cried from the other room, and I could hear music playing softly, an old Janet Jackson song I thought. “Look, I know you don’t want to, but we need to talk. Bugs is in trouble.”

  “I don’t—”

  She never finished the sentence. I looked past her to see Mrs. Donovan, looking ten years older than
she had a week ago.

  “Come in, Nicky. Please?” She turned to Donna. “Get our guest some coffee. We’ll talk in the dining room.”

  I followed them in and sat in the chair at the end of the table, but felt like running out of there. I hadn’t planned on asking these questions in front of Mrs. Donovan.

  Donna brought coffee for me and her mother. Donna sat at the other end of the table, the farthest seat from me. She had poured iced tea for herself.

  “What do you need to know?” Her tone was as cold as her drink.

  I looked at her, hoping to read her reaction. “How did Bobby get so much money?”

  “What money?” her mother asked.

  Damn. That threw me off, but it was interesting that Donna hadn’t told her. “Mrs. Donovan, Bobby had fifty thousand dollars in a bank account.”

  She sat up straight. “Fifty thousand! Where did he get that kind of money?” She leaned across the table toward Donna. “Did you know about this?”

  Donna looked at me, as if pleading for me not to say anything. I nodded. “I got no idea where he got that money, Mom. How would I know?”

  Mrs. Donovan turned to me. “Where would Bobby get that money? You don’t think he stole it, do you?”

  I sighed. There was no easy way to do this. “I think it had something to do with drugs. It almost had to. No one gets that kind of cash unless it has something to do with drugs.”

  “Maybe he won it playing cards,” she said.

  I shook my head. “We all know Bobby wasn’t that good at cards; besides, if he won it at cards, he’d have been bragging all over town about it.”

  Donna nodded. “Nicky’s right. Bobby couldn’t keep his mouth shut if he beat me at gin.”

  “Who will get that money now?” Mrs. Donovan asked.

  “That’s for the cops to decide, or a judge. For now, it’s evidence. Besides, even if by some chance you get to keep it, you’ll have to explain it to the IRS.”

  Donna took a sip of her drink and looked at me, perhaps for the first time with warmth in her eyes. “I’m sorry for the way I’ve been acting.”

  That took me by surprise, but I felt sure she was putting on an act for her mother. Donna was interested in the money. Nothing else mattered. Despite that, I was grateful for the relief of tension.

  For the next half an hour or so, I asked her everything I could think of—did Bobby have any enemies, had he been going out more often at nights, mention any new people he’d been hanging around with, any increase in late-night calls? I asked for a list of his cell-phone bills so I could see who he called and who called him the past few months, and I was surprised when Donna told me that Detective Borelli hadn’t bothered getting that information. In fact, she said, he hadn’t asked much at all about Bobby, mostly about the money.

  I finished my coffee, made small talk with her mother, then said my goodbyes, once again offering condolences to both of them for their loss. Donna walked me to the door. I was curious when she followed me out onto the stoop.

  She handed me a key. “I found this in his drawer, but I have no idea what it fits. Nothing in our house, for sure.”

  It looked like a key to a locker. A number was written on the attached key ring. “You tell anyone else about this?”

  “Nobody. Not even Frankie.”

  “Let’s keep it that way,” I said, and started to walk away.

  “I meant what I said about being sorry.”

  I turned back and smiled. “It’s nice of you to say that, but I don’t believe you. It doesn’t matter, though; this is all about Bugs right now. I’ve got to find a way to help him.”

  Her smile turned sour, and instead of waving goodbye, she shot me the finger. I smiled again. It was good to know things were right in the world.

  I took the six steps down to the street and got in the car to head home. It was a nice day, and Angie had the windows open. As I climbed the steps, the aroma of garlic and red sauce hung in the air like the scent of pine needles on a winter night. I upped my pace a little, taking the final steps two at a time. “Hey, babe, what are you cooking?”

  “I think you know,” she hollered from the kitchen.

  I set my briefcase on the chair by the front door, then went to the kitchen. As I turned the corner from the dining room, I saw her standing there with her sauce-stained apron. She held Mamma Rosa’s old wooden spoon in her hand.

  “Did I miss my birthday or something?” I walked over and kissed her, dipping my finger into the sauce for a quick taste. It earned me the mandatory admonishment, but it was worth it. No way could I pass up a pot of meatballs without tasting the sauce. “What are you doing cooking my favorite meal?”

  I checked to make sure Rosa wasn’t around, then smiled at her. “You horny or something? Because if you are, we could close these blinds and—”

  Angie hit me with the spoon, then quickly rinsed it off. “Open some wine and set the table. We’re eating in the dining room tonight.”

  I whistled. “Fancy tonight. We got company, or what?”

  “Just set the table,” she said. “Rosa is at Abbie’s house.”

  Now I knew something was wrong, but I wasn’t going to say anything. I’d wait until she told me herself. After putting the plates and silverware on the table, I grabbed a few candles and lit them, opened a bottle of wine and poured two glasses. She was almost ready to serve the meal anyway.

  Throughout the first part of the meal, she let me talk about my day, but I could tell she wasn’t listening. She was judging when she should tell me whatever it was she had to say. Finally, I leaned back in the chair, wiped my face with the napkin and did my usual. “Damn, that was good. Just like Mamma Rosa’s.”

  Angie smiled, but it was fake. I put my napkin on the table, got up from the chair, and went over to her. I rubbed her shoulders, massaged her head, then leaned over and kissed the back of her neck. “What’s the matter?”

  She issued a few denials, but it didn’t take long for her tears to flow. “I got laid off.” She turned and stared up at me, her eyes as big and soft as a baby deer’s.

  I hugged her, bringing her head to my chest. “Don’t worry. We’ll be all right.”

  She cried. “How? We’re barely making it now with both of us working. And you spent all the money you had on the house.”

  “Did they give you any severance?”

  “Nothing,” she managed between fits of crying.

  I rubbed her head. “I’ll talk to Fred down at the bank. I’m sure we can take out a loan on the house.”

  Her crying went from bawling to sobbing. “I don’t know. With the economy so bad…”

  I hugged her, but something told me there was more. “Angie, this isn’t like you. What else is bothering you?”

  She kept crying, then stood and turned to look at me. “Nicky…oh God, Nicky, I’m pregnant.” When she said that, she fell into my arms.

  At first I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t understand why she was crying. I pushed her back and stared. “Angie, that’s great news. What’s wrong with being pregnant?”

  “It’s a bad time. The economy, me getting laid off…”

  “Who cares? That’s all little stuff. We don’t need to worry about that.” I sat her back down in the chair. “The important thing is we’re going to have another baby.”

  “You’re not upset? What about the expense?”

  “We’ll get by. I’ll find things to do.”

  Suddenly she jerked back and stood, staring at me with a look that could kill. “Don’t even think about doing anything illegal. You hear me? I don’t care if we have to lose this house and move into an apartment.” She wagged her finger at me. “I’d rather die than lose you again.”

  I kissed her lips, softly. A tingle ran through me, an electric jolt that lifted my heart. It made me feel…special…I guess is the word, like I didn’t deserve this life. Or her.

  I hugged Angie tight. “You’ll never lose me again. I promise.” Even as I said it
, though, I wondered where we’d get the money to pay for a baby, especially with her not working. As I thought more on it, all I could see in my mind was the wad of hundreds Knuckles had offered. Even the sound of the trees blowing outside reminded me of the way he riffled them in front of me.

  Eight large for taking out a scum. What would it hurt?

  CHAPTER 30

  The Irishman Returns

  Wilmington, Delaware

  I got up early and even passed on breakfast so I could get to work before the boss. I hugged Angie for an extra long time. “Don’t worry about anything,” I whispered so Rosa didn’t hear. “And take care of that precious cargo. I’ll see you tonight.”

  “I can’t believe you’re not eating, Dad. You never go to work without breakfast.”

  I kissed Rosa goodbye and grabbed my briefcase. “Got a lot to do,” I said and headed out. Before leaving I reminded Rosa to walk home in a group and not to split up until she was at the house. On the way to work, Bugs called with information on the plates.

  “The car was registered to Mike Ferrieri from Avondale, PA.”

  “Ferrieri? Don’t we know him?”

  “Yeah, he’s from the neighborhood. Got a brother named Tim.”

  “You got anything on him?” I asked.

  “He’s clean, Nicky. No record.”

  “All right. Thanks, Bugs. I’ll let you know if anything comes of it.”

  “Be careful,” Bugs said.

  ALL MORNING I WORKED on the bids, making certain the details were covered before submitting them to the boss. No way I was risking a mistake after Joe chewed my ass out. About 11:30 I organized the prints and bids and took them out to Sheila. “Will you make sure Joe gets these? I’m grabbing lunch.”

  “I’ll put them on his desk,” she said.

  “Want me to bring you back anything?”

  “No thanks.”

  I headed down to French Street and the train station, with the key Donna had given me in my hand as I drove. If someone wanted an anonymous locker in Wilmington, the train station was a logical place for it. I parked the car and went inside, locating the locker in a couple of minutes. When I slipped the key in, it fit perfectly, clicking open. I smiled when I saw a gym bag. I pulled it out and opened it. “Fuck me!”