Covert Exposure, A Nick Spinelli Mystery
Nick Spinelli Mysteries, Volume 1
Valerie J. Clarizio
Published by VJC Books, 2021.
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
COVERT EXPOSURE, A NICK SPINELLI MYSTERY
First edition. September 15, 2021.
Copyright © 2021 Valerie J. Clarizio.
ISBN: 979-8201134747
Written by Valerie J. Clarizio.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Blurb
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Note to Readers
Connect with Valerie
Bonus Excerpt | Enjoy this excerpt from CRAVING VENGEANCE, a Nick Spinelli Mystery. | Chapter One
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About the Author
Dedication
To my husband, Rick. Thanks for washing the dishes and entertaining the cat so I could lock myself in the computer room to write.
To my brothers. Thanks for the tidbits of male perspective you provided to me whether I wanted them or not.
A special thanks to my first critique partner, Virginia McCullough, who taught me about the craft of writing and red-lined my first manuscript more than I care to admit.
Last but not least, thank you Darla Tong for taking the time to read and re-read the manuscript until I got it right.
Blurb
He’s a hardened homicide detective.
She’s a do-gooder social worker.
When their worlds collide, more than murder is exposed.
Detective Spinelli's life is tossed sideways when he is reassigned from the Homicide division to assist in the Child Services division of the Social Services Department for the holiday season.
Caseworker Shannon O’Hara moonlights as Santa Claus's little helper at the mall, and when Santa and an elf turn up dead, she appears to be next on the killer's list.
Spinelli and Shannon are forced to work together to solve the murders and keep Shannon from becoming the next victim. The trouble is they have wildly different philosophies about dealing with clientele and how best to solve these crimes Their unwanted attraction to each other triggers additional stress for the two. Will Spinelli be able to complete his job without losing his heart?
*****
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Chapter One
Spinelli held his coffee mug high. “Congratulations, partner, you made it through. Enjoy your retirement. Here’s to Mad Dog Maxwell.”
Shouts of “Congratulations” rippled through the downtown Milwaukee precinct as the detectives toasted Maxwell with their coffee and doughnuts in hand.
Spinelli watched Mad Dog smile and nod at everyone as he carried a cardboard box stuffed with a career’s worth of personal belongings out the door for the last time. Everything he knew about being a great homicide detective, he’d learned from that man. He missed him already.
Mad Dog was the only one who gave him the time of day when he started on the force as a snot-nosed hotshot kid some years ago.
“Spinelli,” Captain Jackson barked.
His eyes came into focus. “Yeah.”
“I need to talk to you,” she yelled across the room as she waved him over.
Jackson took a seat behind her desk as he entered her office.
“Shut the door, Spinelli.”
He did as she instructed, then fixed his gaze on her. He stepped back and rested his butt on the two-drawer file cabinet next to her desk.
“What’s up, Cap?” he asked as he raked his hand through his hair.
“You’ve been temporarily assigned to Social Services and you will need to report to Ms. Fontaine on the fourth floor until further notice.”
A chuckle escaped his lips. He turned his head to glance through Jackson’s office windows toward the detective desks located immediately outside her office doors. He looked for the mastermind behind the practical joke but he saw none. Not one detective in the office looked in his direction as he hoped they would as they waited for the joke to take hold.
He cut his eyes back to the Captain. “This is a joke, right?”
She shook her head. “This is no joke, Detective. Until further notice, you’ve been assigned to Social Services. The holiday season is tough on that department and they need extra hands with child recovery and placement.”
Spinelli sprang to his feet and stepped toward her desk. “Captain, you’re shitting me, right? Child recovery and placement. What the hell is that crap?”
Spinelli reached toward his chest, lifted the gold colored badge hanging by a chain around his neck, and centered it directly in front of Jackson’s eyes. “In case you don’t remember, this is a detective badge. I’m a homicide detective, not a child recovery and placement detective.”
Jackson rose to her feet and pointed at the white lettering on the glass of her office door, which simply read Captain Jackson. “In case you don’t remember Detective, I’m Captain Jackson. You’ve been reassigned to Social Services until further notice. Ms. Fontaine is waiting for you upstairs.”
Spinelli stared at the Captain for a moment, his mind racing for a reasonable excuse as to why he shouldn’t be reassigned. “But my clearance record, it’s impeccable. Shouldn’t that mean something? And we’re short staffed down here as it is.”
Jackson shifted her eyes away from Spinelli, looking past him and through the glass windows of her office. She pointed toward his crime board. “That’s just it, Spinelli. Your board’s almost clean and the other teams are overloaded with open cases. As for staff shortages, with the Mayor’s budget cuts and directive to not replace retiring staff every department is short staffed. Additionally, you’re the only Detective right now without a partner. You’re the logical choice to be transferred.”
“But...”
Jackson raised her hand, cutting him off. “No buts, you’re it. And you can still help out down here when you’re not needed upstairs.”
Air hissed from his lungs, drowning out the words she spoke.
Spinelli lifted his gaze to meet hers; the look in her eyes told him the deal was done. He fought hard to find a voice, “How long? How long must I do this?”
“Again, it’s a temporary assignment just for the holidays. The holidays are tough on the Social Services department. Their clientele...well, it’s a tough time of year for everyone, those folks especially.”
Chapter Two
Spinelli willed his right foot to step forward, then his left foot. “Repeat motion,” he whispered to himself until he reached the stairwell. He chose not to take the elevator. That would be too quick. He needed time to let his new assignment sink in. His mind spun to find ways to get out of it.<
br />
Within minutes, he found himself standing in front of a glass paneled door with the words “Department of Social Services” etched in the glass. His long legs carried him up the stairs faster than he desired.
He sucked in a deep breath, lifted his hand, and pushed the door open. He stepped through the doorway and into the reception area where he paused to take a look around. A cold chill ran up his spine as he studied the packed area. He noted that the clientele consisted of mostly women and children. He watched the children for a moment as they noisily played about the room. His ears registered a decibel level of at least two hundred plus, far louder than any dirt-track stockcar race he’d ever attended. He lifted his fingers to his temples and pressed slightly but the throbbing continued.
With his eyes still focused on the children, he took a step toward the reception desk and accidentally caught his foot inside a dollhouse. He tumbled forward, his heart racing, his breath quickening, and his hands uselessly flailing. He took a header right smack dab into the front of the receptionist’s desk and darkness fell upon him.
Spinelli opened his eyes to find several children gazing down at him. He bounced up as quickly as a weeble wobble and darted his gaze around the room, but the second he planted himself on his feet the room started to spin. He felt a small set of hands firmly gripping his left arm just above his elbow. A warm sensation flowed through his arm and into his core. He placed the palm of his right hand on the receptionist’s desk and leaned on it for support.
“Are you going to be okay?” a soft feminine voice sang throughout his head.
The sweet sound trailed off and silence filled the air.
The voice hummed pleasantly through his head again. “Are you okay? Do you need to sit down?”
Spinelli willed his eyes in the direction of the voice. He squeezed them shut, swallowed hard, and opened them again. Shades of emerald green danced before him. He blinked quickly several times, each blink bringing him closer to heaven. He thought for sure the eyes of an angel were on him and the pearly gates stood behind her.
He cleared his throat and found his voice. “I’m fine. I’m Detective Spinelli, I’m here to see Ms. Fontaine. She should be expecting me.”
The woman with the emerald green angel-eyes released her grip from his arm but the warmth of her touch remained. She motioned for him to follow her. Spinelli followed “Angel-Eyes” down a long narrow corridor. He studied the back of her starting with the shiny bright red hair-bun stationed high on the back of her head. Not one hair was out of place. He lowered his eyes to her inviting soft-looking milky white neck and continued to her petite shoulders. The navy blue blazer draped over them perfectly matched the navy blue skirt she wore. The length of her skirt fell just above her knees allowing him to take in the sight of her thin yet shapely legs. He shifted his eyes up and down several times, memorizing the backside of the woman whose soft feminine voice still sang in his head. He concluded that her conservative navy suit and “old lady” hair-bun did not match the intense sexiness of her bright green eyes.
His body swayed forward, then back, as he halted on a dime, nearly bumping into his green-eyed angel when she stopped in the doorway of Ms. Fontaine’s office.
“Ms. Fontaine, Detective Spinelli is here to see you,” the woman said as she stepped inside the office and gestured for him to follow.
Spinelli studied the large woman with graying hair who sat behind the desk. She removed her wire-rimmed reading glasses and let them fall onto her chest pulling the colorful beaded chain taut. She rose to her feet and extended her hand toward him. He shook her hand.
Ms. Fontaine pointed toward the chairs opposite her desk. “Please, Detective, take a seat.”
He sat.
The older woman fixed her gaze on the woman he’d followed. “Shannon, you may as well take a seat and get acquainted with Detective Spinelli since he is who you will be working with.”
Fontaine returned her gaze to him. “Ms. O’Hara is the case worker you are assigned to.”
Spinelli watched as “Angel Eyes” took a seat in the chair next to him. She crossed her legs causing her skirt to rise up her thigh. His eyes fixed on her shapely thigh. She quickly reached over her leg and tugged her skirt toward her knee covering as much of her leg as the material would allow.
His heart picked up pace at the thought of working with this beautiful green-eyed creature for the next several weeks. He glanced at her and accepted his reward from God for being forced to leave the homicide division.
Spinelli listened as Ms. Fontaine explained his role for the next several weeks. Basically, he would aid Ms. O’Hara with child recovery and placement, and whatever else she needed assistance with. Ms. Fontaine told him how much their clientele struggle with the holiday season. She further stated that the holiday season proved to be a season high in domestic abuse, which resulted in large numbers of children having to be removed from their homes and placed in foster care.
Spinelli nodded at Ms. Fontaine, accepting his role, though still wondering how long this banishment would last.
Chapter Three
Spinelli followed Shannon to her office, unable to peel his eyes from her shapely legs. His nostrils narrowed, sucking in every ounce of the sweet scent that lingered in the air behind her. She gestured for him to take a seat in a chair opposite her desk. Her phone rang and she picked up the receiver as she sat down. As she spoke on the telephone, he scanned her small office memorizing every detail like detectives tend to do. He couldn’t help but notice how just a touch of feminine warmth accented the professional décor. His eyes shifted from the photo of an older couple, perhaps in their early seventies, to a photo of three little red-headed boys. He wondered if the boys belonged to her. He glanced at her left hand, no ring.
Shannon hung up the phone receiver. “I’m sorry about that, Detective Spinelli,” she said as she thumbed through the mounds of neatly organized stacks of case files on her desk, “here it is...the Washington file.”
Spinelli watched as she flipped the file open and lost herself in the information for a brief moment. She blew out a sigh and looked up at him. He could easily see the sadness flood her big green eyes. Shannon cleared her throat. “The authorities picked up Gilbert Washington early this morning as a result of a domestic abuse call.”
“What happened? What did he do?” he asked as he leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest.
“Apparently the neighbor placed the 911 call when he heard Gilbert and his wife, Charmane, arguing. A loud thud followed the arguing. The neighbor assumed the cause of the thud was Gilbert throwing Charmane against the wall. As it turned out the neighbor was right. Unfortunately, the kids witnessed the entire exchange.”
Shannon shook her head. “We’ve offered Charmane assistance for herself and her children but she refuses to leave Gilbert. As a result, today we will be removing the children from the home and placing them in foster care.”
“Why does she refuse to leave him?”
“Scared perhaps.” Shannon sighed and shook her head. “And he’s probably her crack supplier.”
“Is Gilbert still in lockup?”
“Yes, so it would probably be a good idea to head over there and remove the children before he’s released.”
“I’ll get my unmarked and meet you up front,” Spinelli replied as he sprang to his feet and headed for the door. Before his third step hit the floor he heard Shannon call his name. He turned to find her standing behind her desk holding up a set of keys.
He cocked his head to the side. “What?”
“We’ll take one of the vehicles assigned to Social Services. They’re fully equipped with car seats for matters such as these,” Shannon said as she handed the keys to him. “You can drive so I can review the file some more.”
“Car seats? How many children are we talking about here?”
“Three. The oldest, Lesha is seven, Darius is three and Christina is nine months old.”
Spinelli f
ollowed Shannon to the parking lot.
She pointed at a dark green Dodge minivan. “That’s the one.”
He shifted his eyes from the minivan to Shannon and then back to the van. “That, we’re taking that?” No red lights, no sirens, no excitement. Life as he knew it was slipping away from him.
“Perhaps you could just get in and drive, and forget the comments,” Shannon said as she climbed in through the passenger door.
Spinelli got in on the driver’s side and started the engine. He adjusted the seat to accommodate his long legs, then the mirrors. Once he finished altering everything, he glanced over at Shannon.
“What?” she asked.
He shook his head. “I’m just wondering how I got here. Yesterday I was a homicide detective and today I’m driving a minivan that smells like sweaty socks.”
“I’m sorry you’re not pleased with your assignment but we need to get going if we are going to remove the children before Gilbert makes bail.”
Spinelli put the minivan in drive and headed toward the Washington home located just north of downtown, on Cherry Street. He knew that area could mean trouble. His senses moved into “full alert” mode.
As he drove, Shannon explained the procedure for removing the children. She would do all the talking and he would stand in the background as an authority figure to help keep the peace during the process.
Spinelli parked in front of the Washington’s apartment building. Shannon reached for the door handle but immediately halted when Spinelli wrapped his hand around the upper part of her left arm. “Wait a second,” he said as he scanned the area.
The neighborhood left a lot to be desired. The old multi-story apartment buildings screamed for repair. The most up-to-date gang signs cluttered the apartment’s exterior and clusters of homeless people paraded about the sidewalk picking through the litter sprawled about the area as they pushed their belongings in wheeled carts. At least on this particular day, the sunlight lit up the street making it easy for Spinelli to see and assess his surroundings. Just the opposite of the last time he visited this neighborhood when darkness filled the street making it difficult to find his enemies. If it weren’t for the stench of death penetrating the night air he may never have located and apprehended Magoo and Slapshot, two hoods responsible for the deaths of four members of their rival gang.
Covert Exposure, a Nick Spinelli Mystery Page 1