She responded, “The alcohol level in his body was over point four. We’re not sure he could even function enough to follow through with the act.”
“That’s it?”
A twitch started at the right corner of her mouth, quickly moving up Detective Hunt’s face across her cheek to her eyelid and then her forehead. “And he left his door unlocked.”
“Doesn’t seem like much to turn a suicide into foul play,” Luci said.
Detective Hunt accepted Luci’s words without a response. “Fixx, what else can you tell me?”
I decided there wasn’t much else I wanted to tell her. The panicked feeling was returning. I’d begun to calm down since initially discovering Mosconi was dead, but now the whole picture was beginning to settle in. I was gaining clarity, and I didn’t like my position in the overall scheme of things. If Mosconi was murdered, where did that leave me? Would I be next?
I wanted to extricate myself from this whole New York world as quickly as possible. Telling this detective as little as I knew about Jim Mosconi would be a start. “There’s not much else I can tell you. Yesterday was only the second time I met with him, so I didn’t really know him.”
“Then, what were you doing at the Post today?”
“I had hoped to talk to him more about his research.”
Detective Hunt searched my face for clues, trying to decide if I was holding back on her. I couldn’t tell what she’d decided when she said, “Fine. I need all your contact information in case I have more questions.”
I gave her my cell phone number and the address of the hotel where we were staying. Donovan and Luci followed suit. She wrote the information in her notepad, slapping it shut when she was done and standing up from her chair. “Gentlemen, it’s been a pleasure. I may be in touch.” She patted Donovan on the shoulder as she passed him, making Donovan look over his shoulder at her as she did so. It was a power gesture on her part, letting us know she was not in any way intimidated by us. All eyes were on her backside until she disappeared through the front doors.
When she was gone, Donovan said, “She’s tough. I like her.”
Luci responded, “I wouldn’t want to be her husband. With that interrogating look on her face, I’d always feel guilty about something, like I should confess every day.”
Luci’s comment lightened the mood. We all laughed. After a moment, though, our laughter dissipated, the reality of our situation settling in around us.
“This is not good.”
“You think he was murdered?” Donovan asked.
Luci said, “Possible.”
I added, “She didn’t tell us everything, but she told us enough. You met Mosconi yesterday. Did he seem like a guy about to commit suicide?’
“No,” my friends responded together.
Luci said, “The unlocked door indicates he could have let someone in who left in a hurry. If Mosconi was really drunk, like she says, hanging yourself takes some work. It’s not as easy as they make it look on TV.”
“Do you think he could have been killed because of the story he was working on?” I looked back and forth between the two faces staring at me. Luci nodded. Donovan followed suit. Uncomfortably, I laughed. “C’mon. Seriously, now we’re talking about murder.”
I took a deep breath. “I’m interviewing Maggie and Marco tonight for the final couple interview. Maybe I’ll just throw that in the interview and see if we can get this all settled. ‘Marco, by the way, while you were in Italy, did you get a fifteen-year-old girl pregnant, kill her father when he confronted you, covered it all up, and then killed Jim Mosconi because somehow he found out the truth?’ For some reason, I don’t think that would go over too well.” I stopped, considering what I’d just said. “It can’t be what we think. Maybe he did just commit suicide.”
Donovan responded, “Jon, I’d agree with you, except you’ve got the FBI warning you off, and some guy tried to break into our room to plant a listening device. Now this reporter is dead. You gonna tell me there’s not something going on?”
I shook my head in frustration. The realization that Mosconi was dead hit me full force, and the understanding that he had possibly been murdered was too much for me to handle. I looked up at my two friends, both willing to go all the way with me, putting themselves at risk on my behalf. “After my interview tonight, I’ll have enough information to finish this project. We could just leave tomorrow, go back to L.A., and I’ll finish it up back there. If I’m missing anything, I can get the information by phone and email.”
Neither of my friends responded.
“Okay. I’ll see how tonight goes and we’ll figure out what we’re going to do after that.”
As one, we stood up from the coffee table and walked outside. The sun was gone, a dark mass of clouds covering the sky. The smell in the air threatened snow. We decided to walk back to the hotel. No one spoke the entire way. Mosconi and Detective Hunt, Maggie and Marco, Williams and Tony Vespucci—their images kept crossing my mind. I felt the buzz of my mobile in my pocket. I pulled it out and stopped in my tracks. A knee-jerk thrill shot through my body as I recognized Sara’s picture on the screen. Luci and Donovan were a step ahead and turned around to see what had stopped me. Slowly, I hit the answer button and put the phone to my ear.
“Hello.”
“Jon. It’s Sara.”
“I know.”
Silence. I waited, an overwhelming feeling of nervous excitement making me tingle, though a part of me could not decide if I liked her calling me after everything that had happened between us.
“How are you?”
“Fine. I’m fine. How are you?”
“I’m okay.”
The post-break-up phone calls were like talking to a familiar stranger.
“Where are you?”
“I’m in New York. Working.”
She was quiet a moment, then, “That’s why I’m calling.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m worried about you.”
I liked, and didn’t like, what I was hearing. Liked because the thought that Sara was worrying about me created an unhealthy, addict-like feeling of warmth in my stomach. Didn’t like because what could suddenly have given her reason to worry about me. “Worried about me. That’s silly. Why?”
“It’s Michel’s cousin, Ted.”
Hearing Michel’s name sent a spasm of jealously through my system. Williams’ name set off alarm bells, making my head ring. My eyes caught those of my friends, my concern reflected in their inquiring looks.
“What about him?”
“I was talking with Michel this morning, and he was going on about his cousin Ted and the FBI and how they’ve got a big case going and somehow you’re involved. What are you doing back there?”
I was processing her information, trying to figure out what she was talking about. Nothing she’d said indicated danger for me, but ‘Ted Williams’ and ‘big case’ registered. So he was working on a big case. “What does that have to do with me? Why do you think I’m in danger?” Upon hearing the word danger, Luci and Donovan both took a step toward me, getting in a little closer.
“Ted told Michel you were in way over your head, that you were interfering with their case. That if you weren’t careful, you might end up being disappeared by the very people they’re going after.”
I was silent, my mind quickly considering the implications.
“Jon, I don’t want anything to happen to you. I know we’re broken up and a lot of things have gone down between us, but I still care about you.”
Another time, Sara’s words may have had greater impact, but at the moment I was more concerned about my own survival, so I had trouble focusing on what she was saying.
“When you come back to Los Angeles, can I see you? I’d like to talk about what happened between us. I’m not saying I want to get back t
ogether, but I think we should see each other. What do you think?”
What did I think? Was she insane? Before I could say anything I knew I’d regret later, I said, “Thanks for the information. Don’t worry about me. I’m safe. I have to go.” I hung up. It seemed like the only thing to do.
My head felt like it was about to explode. I wasn’t sure what was going on with my ex-girlfriend, but I’d gotten far enough along in the break-up period to allow my mental capacities to override any positive physical reaction my body was having to Sara’s voice. She did give me a warning, though, so I’d have to thank her for that some day.
Luci interrupted my panicked thoughts. “That was Sara.”
“Yep.”
Donovan asked, “Phone-booth Sara?”
“Uh huh.”
“What did she say?” asked Luci.
“She said I’m in danger.”
“How does she know that?”
“Michel. Seems Williams was blabbing and told Michel I was interfering with a big case. If I wasn’t careful I might just disappear.”
Donovan asked, “And Michel is who?”
“The guy banging my ex, Williams’ French cousin.” I mulled over everything Sara had said. “Why would Williams be blabbing to his cousin about a big case he was working?” I looked at my friends. “Luci, you’ve trained a lot of these FBI and CIA guys over the years. Doesn’t that seem a little strange to you?”
Donovan looked at Luci. “You train FBI and CIA?”
“Martial arts. Kung fu. Years ago, I took on a guy who was high up in the company, and it sort of snowballed from there.”
“He even met George Tenet once.”
Donovan turned to me. “What am I doing here, then?”
Luci responded, “Our dear friend here needs all the help he can get.” He patted me on the back in a supportive gesture. “But back to what you were saying. I highly doubt Williams was just inadvertently talking about this case. He must have had some intention behind it.”
“You think he’s trying to scare me, figured Michel would tell Sara and Sara would call me?”
“Sounds like a desperate roundabout way to get something done, but it’s possible.”
“Why, though? The only damning information I have is alleged and unproven, and it would only damage Marco’s standing with Vespucci and Maggie.” I stopped, realizing what I had just said, piecing it together. “And the man who gave me that information is now dead.” If what Marco had done in Italy was true, and no one knew about it, the revelation would almost guarantee no wedding and no Marco in any future with Maggie or the Vespucci family, either personally or professionally. Suddenly, I was hit with an epiphany and it all gelled. The fog cleared and the pieces came together in a rush. I remembered what Donovan had said about the FBI that morning. “Marco is the only person who will lose anything if I, or Mosconi, make public what I know. And he’s the one person who would have important information for the FBI.”
Luci understood where I was going. “You think he’s an informant?”
The words hung out there while we stared at each other, considering the implications.
“That’s how you’re interfering with their case,” Donovan said.
“It would explain why the FBI wants you out of the picture,” Luci added.
I looked over my shoulder, glancing around to make sure no one was around us within earshot. Donovan and Luci did the same. If we were right, the FBI was trying to build a case by placing a mole high up in the Vespucci organization. Who better to do it than the son of Tony Vespucci’s best friend and business associate? Better yet, as Vespucci’s son-in-law, Marco would remain above suspicion while having some of the best access to Vespucci’s inner circle. Looking at the scope of the sting, the FBI must have put a lot of time into it. If I had left Mosconi alone, the FBI would probably have done the same to me. But if what I uncovered ruined the relationship between Marco and Maggie, then Marco could lose his access to Tony Vespucci and the FBI would no longer have an informant.
As for Marco, I presented a direct threat. He had more to lose than the FBI did if Vespucci discovered he was a rat. Not only did he have to hide the murder of his child’s father, he also had to hide the fact he was informing on his own people. Taking it one step further, if we were right, I wondered when the FBI had gotten to Marco. Before or after he was involved with Maggie? If it was before, that could mean even their relationship was a setup. The implications of it were staggering. The bottom line for my companions and me, though, was that the FBI and Marco Balducci would be happy if we just disappeared.
I turned to Luci. “Your guy in Europe, think you can reach him?”
“Only one way to find out.”
“Can you have him look into Mosconi’s story about Marco and the girl? See if he can verify it.” Luci nodded.
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to set the stage. I’ve got my final interview with Maggie and Marco tonight. I’m going to see what Marco’s made of. It’s time to put up or shut up. I’m going to find out once and for all if what we think is true is actually true.”
With the dark November evening settling in, I met the eyes of my friends, and full commitment was mirrored there. We hailed a taxi and climbed inside. I couldn’t stop thinking about Maggie. If we were right—if Marco was an informant, if the wedding was a setup—it would end badly, regardless of my actions. One way or another, Maggie was going to be heartbroken. So if that was the inevitable outcome, the sooner it happened, the sooner Maggie could pick up the pieces and move on with her life. Thoughts of what I planned on doing that evening began to crowd out my thoughts about Maggie. Did I really think I was going to call Marco out, expose him as a snitch? If I did that, what would Maggie do? Leave him? Realize I was the right guy for her? Fall in love with me, simple as that?
And then what?
The more I thought about it, the more absurd it all seemed. The closer our car got to Brooklyn, the greater my doubts about my seemingly well-laid plan to expose Marco. Then I started considering what would happen if I was unable to prove my accusations, or worse, if my accusations were unfounded. Marco seemed unlikely to be the forgiving type. If I went down this path, and I was unable to see it all the way through, Marco’s wrath would be far more damaging than anything Nick Nickels Jr. had sent my way. As the thoughts and scenarios and possible outcomes swirled around in my mind, doubts settled in like a cold blanket. I looked out the window of the taxi, staring at the buildings as they passed by, my mind muddled. Did I owe Maggie the truth? What if Maggie already knew everything that happened in Italy, and we were wrong about Marco being an FBI informant?
Within blocks of the hotel, I tried to shut down my brain for a little while to give it a break. I decided I would play it by ear when I arrived at the Vespucci’s house and do what felt right at the time. That was my decision of non-decision. I had no idea how it was going to play out. All I could do was show up and find out.
12 Early November – New York – 3rd Trip
The taxi came to a stop in front of the Vespucci compound. I stared at the wall, not sure about stepping inside its protective boundaries because those I needed protection from were already inside. Before leaving the hotel, I’d spent an hour and a half going over everything I knew, running every scenario I could think of, considering where the holes in my logic were—because I knew there were holes. One thought nagged at me the whole time. What if I was wrong? What if Tony Vespucci already knew everything? Where would that leave me? I didn’t have enough information to accuse Marco of being an informant—it was a hunch at best—but I was beginning to convince myself, even without the facts, that it was true.
I climbed out of the car, Donovan following me. Luci had stayed back at the hotel to work on his CIA contact in Europe, planning on meeting us as soon as he’d made his calls. We rang the buzzer at the
iron gate and waited. The gate opened quickly. Sabrina ran out to greet us. From inside the doorframe, she was staring up at Donovan with a big grin on her face.
“Hi, Donovan.”
Donovan smiled back. “Hi, gatekeeper.”
“It would appear you have an admirer,” I said.
Donovan squatted down. “Have you been practicing the magic tricks I showed you?” Sabrina nodded. “Will you show me inside?”
“Okay!” Sabrina turned and ran ahead of us.
Maggie greeted us at the front door, her dark hair pulled back over her shoulders. She was wearing a long-sleeved, formfitting black t-shirt wrapped over another t-shirt peeking out from the neckline, a pair of workout tights covering her trim legs. For a brief moment, I thought maybe she was worth risking my life for if it meant I would have a shot with her. I felt such a strong attraction I looked away for fear she’d notice me gawking.
“Hi, guys.”
“Hi, Maggie.”
She gave me an affectionate hug. It lasted maybe a second, but it was more than long enough to create a longing on my part for much, much more. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Donovan watching the exchange with more than mild interest. Maggie let me go, taking Donovan by surprise and giving him a quick hug as well. “You had quite an impact on my niece,” she said. “Sabrina can’t stop talking about you and your magic tricks.”
“Just a few things I learned in my travels. Kids usually find the tricks neat,” Donovan responded.
Maggie added, “Not just kids. I find the tricks neat. I might have you teach them to me. Come in. I’m still waiting for Marco to get here.”
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