Street Justice

by Vito Zuppardo

  Mario came in, smiling, asking for help. How could the gun in the drain not match the bullets in the two dead guys? He danced around for a few seconds, then grabbed Jay by the throat and lifted him off the chair.

  “Do you think I’m stupid or are you that dumb?” Mario jammed him back into the chair.

  “The bullets didn’t match the gun in the drain. You sent us on a wild goose chase.”

  “What are you talking about?” Jay shouted, defending himself. “I watched the mayor shoot them both and drop the pieces in the drains.”

  Mario pulled his gun, cocked the hammer, and placed it in Jay’s mouth. Howard was surprised at such a bold move; he’d used it often, but never seen Mario play that card. “You’ll tell me the truth, or I’ll blow your head off.”

  Mario holstered his gun and paced the floor. Cyrus dropped a frying pan in the sink and vacated in a flash.

  “Know who I talked to earlier?” Mario circled around and got in Jay’s face. “Randy.” Then he watched Jay’s complexion change from rosy to pale white.

  With help, Mario gathered information among the homeless population under the bridge. Randy was a big help in locating Jay’s cart, deep in the weeds behind an abandoned car. Jay’s worldly possessions in the cart and a gun hidden under all his crap. The ballistics report on Jay’s weapon was a decisive match to the pistol that killed Barry. Olivia was processing the bullet that killed Leon.

  Fear took over, and Jay sat at the table with his hands to his face. Mario shouted questions he didn’t answer. Leaning into him still got no response. Howard made a nod to Mario, and he stepped aside.

  “Jay, look at me,” Howard said politely but stern.

  His tear-soaked face raised from the table.

  Howard talked calmly, asking for the truth, assuring him Mario wouldn’t have shot him when the gun was placed in his mouth. Then he pulled his weapon and put it to Jay’s head. “But, I’ll kill you right now. Not here—in the swamp. Leave you there with a bullet in each leg, so you can’t walk away. Let the gators feast and disassemble you piece by piece.”

  Howard picked him up from the neck with one hand and pushed Jay’s shaky body to the door. Mario’s cell phone rang, interrupting the mood, and he answered.

  With the phone to his ear, Mario’s eyes widened as he listened. “You’re sure?” He threw the phone on the table and motioned for Howard to sit Jay back in a chair.

  “You have one chance to tell me everything or you’re dead.” Mario looked up at Howard. “The bullet that killed Leon didn’t come from Jay’s gun.”

  Fifteen minutes later, Jay visibly in pain, rocked back and forth, then finally came clean.

  He said that it started over breakfast at the Church of St. Patrick. Barry and Leon argued that it was time to make a payday and extort money from the mayor. Leon didn’t agree. Jay was told to stay back; they didn’t need pictures of another meeting.

  They left breakfast about 6:15 A.M. Jay pushed his cart one way, Leon and Barry walked two blocks over to Lafayette Square. Jay, curious, doubled back and hid in the bushes. When the mayor shouted, waving his hands in the air, Jay snapped a few pictures. Wallace was long gone when Leon and Barry’s squabble heated up. Barry stepped away, then quickly turned back with a gun and shot Leon in the head.

  Jay rooted through his cart, pulled his gun, the only actual possession he owned and kept for protection on the streets. Barry had bent over Leon, spit on Leon. When he turned around, Jay fired his gun and Barry dropped to the ground.

  Jay looked relieved; one hand brushed his hair back. “Leon was my friend. We’ve been through a lot of bad times together. He didn’t deserve to die that way.”

  “Do you have the gun that Barry used?” Mario spoke in his compassionate voice. Jay was genuinely sorry for his actions.

  Jay said he could take them to that gun. The weapon that he planted in the drains was found weeks earlier in the weeds. He was smart enough to know that a gun and a silencer couldn’t be pawned without severe repercussions. His plan was to drop them in the river but never got a chance.

  “You cleaned the fingerprints and made the drop in the drain yourself?” Howard asked.

  Jay nodded his head up and down. With his hands over his face, he whispered, “I should have just run and called the police.”

  “In the end, you did the right thing,” Mario said. “You came clean.”

  “Will I go to prison?” Jay’s eyes widened; his voice escalated. “Leon saved my life in Iraq. I had to kill Barry for taking his life.”

  “Call it what you want. Murder, giving a false statement under oath, and obstruction.” Mario put handcuffs on him. “Yeah, you’re going to jail—for a long time.”

  Chapter 31

  All rise,” the bailiff announced when the judge entered the courtroom. On one side up front was Pamela Jones, representing the district attorney’s office. Across the aisle were Jay Adams and his attorney. Mario and Howard sat in the back as the arraignment started.

  When the judge asked Jay Adams to enter a plea, a man stood. “Gustavo Martino, Your Honor, representing Jay Adams. My client pleads self-defense.”

  Pamela jumped to her feet. Self-defense was news to her. Only two days ago, he’d confessed to murder. “Your Honor?” The prosecution asked that Jay be held without bail.

  “Your Honor, may we approach?” Gustavo said. The judge waved them to the bench. “Sir, not to embarrass Ms. Jones, we agree about the bail. A homeless man welcomes jail, three meals a day, a bed, and a roof over his head. My client is happy in prison for the short term.”

  The judge motioned them to return to their places and ruled that Jay Adams was to be held without bail and the trial date was set.

  Mario was as surprised as anyone, seeing Gustavo and hearing the plea changed. “What the hell just happened? How did Jay hire the most powerful defense attorney in the entire South?”

  Howard rolled his eyes. “Do you think Jay should be sent to prison for life?”

  Mario made a face, wrinkled his cheeks. “I’m not sure.”

  “Well, I don’t. With the Savino family dead, Gustavo had room for a new client.”

  “For gratis?”

  “Gustavo does nothing for gratis.” Howard rolled his eyes.

  The judge moved on to another case, and the detectives took the conversation to the hallway.

  It was as if a lightning bolt hit Mario, and he reached for Howard’s arm. “Did you use our investment money?”

  “You said you wanted to do good with the money.” Howard stopped before going down an escalator to the street level. “I don’t believe Jay should go to prison.”

  Mario hated to know but asked anyway. “How much?”

  “Gustavo capped his fee at one hundred thousand dollars.”

  The detectives met with Chief Parks to follow up on Jay’s arrest. Mario came clean with the chief about the mayor’s investigation. He was told to tread water carefully after the meeting with the district attorney.

  “This mayor thing you’re pursuing has to come to a head.” The chief was emphatic; if the story got out without solid proof, she’d deny it and throw Mario under the bus. There was no way she would take the blame. Her department would look like they operated as a three-ring circus, with Mario as the ringmaster.

  Howard insisted Mayor Jackson had ties to a crime boss, and they needed more time to work out the details.

  “What proof can possibly come up that the mayor is associated with Roberto? And now the crime boss has gone missing.” She gave them an unfriendly look. “I read the New York Times too. Doesn’t take a genius to know the one gone missing might be the one associated with the mayor.”

  Howard kept his eyes down; he knew she was looking at him and Mario too. He was offering information.

  “You have a week,” she said. “Make a case or move on and never look back at this ridiculous accusation of our city’s leader.”

  Mario and Howard brainstormed over lunch. Howard called Julie and s
he confirmed that Roberto had not surfaced. One thing she knew for sure—the hit on Mario and Olivia had been called off. When Howard hung the phone up he sat in a daze. Mario spoke, but Howard’s mind was far, far away.

  “Hello?” Mario said, waving his hand at Howard.

  “I have a solution,” Howard said. “I’m sure I can nail the mayor.” He stood. “I’ve got to go. I’ll be in touch.”

  “Where are you going?” Mario shouted at his back.

  “Just trust me.”

  “That’s what worries me,” Mario whispered to himself.

  Chapter 32

  A call to Bobby G. set up a meeting with Howard at the Philadelphia airport baggage claim area. Bobby assured him that if there was any funny business he’d find himself in the trunk of a car and dumped in a landfill. Death would not be without severe pain. Howard pointed out he was flying commercial, so screening wouldn’t allow him to sneak a weapon onboard. He came in peace this trip.

  The flight was under three hours. Howard was among the first few off the plane and arrived at the baggage carousel first. He was met by a man in a dark blue suit; red, white, and blue tie; and shiny shoes. No doubt he was an airport employee—on Bobby G’s payroll. Why else would he give up his office on the ground floor and look the other way?

  Inside, Bobby sat behind a desk, one brute next to him and two thugs at the door. Howard was searched politely—he respected the move.

  “I’ve done what you asked. Mario is a free man,” Bobby said. “What now?”

  “I’m here to make you a rich man.” Howard looked at the bodyguards. “We need to speak alone.”

  “Not going to happen.”

  Howard clarified that if they didn’t speak alone, he was taking the next flight to New Orleans.

  “How rich?’ Bobby asked.

  “More than your great-grandchildren can blow in a lifetime.”

  They moved their conversation outside the office, where the sounds echoed through the ground level with announcements and the baggage carousel running. They stood outside the office, and the thugs spread out with eyes glued on Bobby. Howard was sure the thugs had quick access to their guns, if he made any sudden moves.

  He watched Bobby’s eyes widen as he laid out a plan. He asked if Roberto was ever coming back, suggesting maybe Roberto was on an extended vacation in Italy. With a head shake and a smile, Bobby guaranteed that unless Roberto was reincarnated, he wasn’t coming back.

  “I’ll call you tomorrow,” Howard said, shaking Bobby’s hand. “I appreciate your cooperation.”

  Bobby called out, “Mr. Blitz,” before Howard got too far. “Maybe this is the start of a beautiful relationship.”

  “Don’t get emotional. I need something from you—it’s just business.”

  After less than an hour on the ground, Howard was back in the air heading to New Orleans. Everything was in place, with one stumbling block facing him. Convincing Mario on the strategy.

  The flight back was quick. With no baggage, he was soon in the car and on his way. One call to Mario found him at Olivia’s house. Uninvited, he arrived on her front porch. A slight knock, and the door opened to an infuriated Mario. Scents of candles hit him when he walked in the door. “Is that cranberry scent?” He got no acknowledgment. The dining room table was set for two, with good china and crystal wine glasses. No doubt, a romantic dinner was planned.

  “Mario, we need to talk.”

  Making a slight eye motion toward the door, Mario couldn’t have thrown a better hint with a head cocked the same direction, “Can’t it wait until tomorrow?”

  Olivia came in with another place setting. “Of course, it can’t wait. He’ll have a meal with us, and you two can discuss a case over dinner.”

  Howard apologized for barging in on their romantic dinner. He didn’t mean to ruin the mood and promised he’d only be a few minutes.

  Olivia insisted he stay and banged the dishes on the table. “Mood! The mood changed the second you walked through the door.”

  Mario reached for the wine and poured three glasses. “Guess you’re staying for dinner.”

  Mario asked what was so important. Howard took his wine to the sofa in the living room. He talked fast, and Mario’s nod indicated he was in agreement. The second time Olivia shouted that dinner was on the table, Howard took his conversation to the dining room.

  Howard looked the spread over. Chicken breast stuffed with wild rice and mushrooms, sautéed vegetables, buttered potatoes, and French rolls. “Haven’t seen a spread like this in a long time.”

  Mario’s eyes stabbed at Howard. “It’s been a long time for me too pal.”

  Over dinner, Olivia suggested she introduce Howard to a woman she’d met shopping. Age appropriate for Howard and might help take his mind off work. She said he was worse than Mario.

  “How age appropriate?” Howard raised one eyebrow.

  Olivia came back with a vengeance. “Your age!”

  Dinner was finished. Mario helped take the dishes to the kitchen and before Olivia joined them on the sofa, Howard hit him with the demands. “We can take down a corrupt mayor. All you need to do is endorse the casino—don’t go out of your way to dodge it.”

  “Lie?” Mario said.

  “No. Simply say you have no opinion about the casino business.”

  “But I’ve been against it from the start.” Mario knocked back the rest of his wine.

  “Opinions change.” Howard walked the room like he was interviewing a witness. “Why care? Let the city officials take the heat if crime spikes.”

  “You’re sure it will work?”

  Howard gulped his wine. “I guarantee.”

  For the plan to work, the chief had to play a part. It wasn’t anything that would tie her to Mario’s probe into the mayor—so she agreed.

  The next day, Chief Parks was to meet Mayor Jackson at his office. She was right on time at 1:45 P.M. She opened with her condolences on his brother’s death. He sucked up the sympathy like the two were attached at the hip throughout their lives.

  She got her point across and asked the purpose of the meeting. How should the police spokesperson handle questions from the press regarding Leon Mason? She was surprised to learn the mayor had called for a press conference that evening.

  Across town at One Shell Square, Mario and Howard sat listening on speakerphone in Ralph’s office. He agreed to use his computer hacking knowledge to frame Wallace Jackson.

  Ralph walked Bobby G. through instructions on Roberto Ferrari’s laptop. It took three tries but Ralph finally had control of Roberto’s computer.

  “I’m in,” Ralph said. “Okay, Bobby, don’t touch any keys.” Then Ralph opened Roberto’s email account and transferred all his sent files to his computer. Ralph located a folder named “Gaming New Orleans.” “Holy shit! We hit the motherlode.” There were hundreds of emails back and forth between Roberto and the mayor.

  From Roberto’s mirrored computer, an email was sent to the mayor. By now, the chief would have been gone from their meeting, and the mayor, in his office, would be able to respond. Her job was to make sure the mayor was at his desk when Ralph shot off the first email.

  Wallace received an email alert on his phone that his personal account had new mail. He pulled it up and read.

  SENT: Roberto Ferrari

  I’m alive and well. Need to be out of the country for a while. Are we still in business?

  At Ralph’s office, Mario and Howard watched the inbox for the mayor to respond. It was a waiting game and finally a bell sounded, showing a response.

  SENT: Wallace Jackson

  A stroke of my pen and you’ll have my recommendation as a vendor for the casino licensee. Gaming Control Board will approve. I appointed every decision-maker.

  Mario handed Ralph a handwritten note for a reply to Wallace. “Send it—every word.”

  Ralph reviewed the information and typed the message with some hesitation. He might get into a gray area, and if Wallace caught it,
he’d know this was a setup. He wanted to review some of the previous emails to get a feel for Roberto’s style. Mario stressed it would happen now or never. This had one shot in a million of working and it had to be now.

  SENT: Roberto Ferrari

  I’m ready! Advise day, time, location, and amount.

  They waited for a response. It didn’t come back as fast as the first one. Mario flipped from looking at the screen to Ralph’s fingers, typing and clicking away. He had no clue what he was doing.

  “Come on,” Ralph said, annoyed, beating on the desk like that would help the computer search faster. “Wallace isn’t responding. I’m searching the email folder for ‘street, avenue, road, or boulevard,’ some clue to lead me to an email with the amount and location.”

  “He’s onto us,” Howard said. “He should have answered by now.”

  A bell sounded; an email was in the inbox.

  SENT: Wallace Jackson

  Sorry, I was interrupted. Tomorrow, 3:00 P.M. Same location and amount.

  “We’re screwed,” Ralph said.

  “Buy time,” Mario shouted.

  SENT: Roberto Ferrari

  Okay.

  The search for “avenue” came back “no match” and so did the other keywords.

  Mario walked the room a little faster than usual. “What else can a street be called?”

  “I can’t think straight,” Ralph said, gawking out the window for the answer.

  Howard suggested the word “lane.” As fast as it was typed “no match” came back.

  “Try ‘circle,’” Mario said.

  “Oh, my god. We got it.” Ralph opened an email from eight months ago. It read they were to meet at the House of God on Lee Circle. “It just says to bring the cash.”

  Mario made a crazy face. The money didn’t matter, just a location for the drop.

  Wallace had incriminated himself in the email. Now they needed a legal search and to catch him in the act.

  Chapter 33

  Through the night Ralph printed off every email between Wallace and Roberto. It was an assembly line. Ralph printed the emails. Mario and Howard with white gloves took the emails and read through circling in red anything that could be used in court.