I heard Maggie’s voice. “Answer me, you piece of shit.”
I glanced up at Nickels. “This is not a good time, Nick.”
“Do you know where my sister is now? She’s in a mental hospital. She tried to kill herself. All because of you.”
As Nickels spoke, I quickly looked down at the table to see what Marco was doing with the pistol. It hadn’t moved. I looked back at Nickels. I’d had enough of everyone. I was beyond feeling responsible for any of these people. “Maybe she tried to kill herself because she’s tired of having a brother who wants to sleep with her? Or did you two already do that and she couldn’t handle the guilt?”
Nickels reacted the way I expected him to. His face contorted into a mask of rage, his body instantly in motion. Nickels dove over the table, knocking me backward to the floor. We rolled around, each trying to gain an advantage. I wanted to use Nickels as a shield in case Marco became reckless and decided to put an end to me. Our roll came to a stop, my feet tangled up in the cloth hanging down from the table. Nickels looked triumphant above me, gloating with his advantage. He had pinned my arms to the ground with his knees, rearing back with both arms to let fly on my face. Gazing up at him, I saw a crazed man. I wondered how he had made it this long in life without ending up in a mental institution himself. As his left fist came toward my face, I closed my eyes preparing for an impact that didn’t come. I felt a whoosh of air, opening my eyes just in time to see Luci flying across me, Nickels wrapped up in his arms, piling into the next dining table, already vacated by the terrified patrons. Resting on my elbows, I sat up trying to grasp what was happening. Glancing up, I saw Marco’s frame standing over me, his gun pointed directly at my head.
“Are you getting what you wanted? Couldn’t leave it alone, could you?”
Only a few feet away, Maggie said, “Marco, no!” She rushed at him, but he shoved her down with his free hand, knocking her to her knees. Her eyes locked with mine.
“Put it down, Marco!” I heard Joey yell. I spotted him halfway across the restaurant, his hand reaching into his jacket.
A second voice rang out from the opposite direction. “NYPD! Put down the weapon!”
I looked over my right shoulder, spotting Detective Hunt with another man beside her. What the hell were they doing here? They both had guns out, badges hanging from their necks. Marco looked around wildly, hesitating. I could see Donovan restraining Gino in a full nelson. To my right, between the NYPD and me, Luci had Nickels pinned to the ground. Marco’s eyes found their way back to me. I stared up at him, preparing for the bullet I knew was coming my way. Marco relaxed, making a slight indication of dropping his right hand and lowering his pistol. Then in one swift motion, he spun toward Detective Hunt, dropping to a knee, his right hand swinging up and pulling the trigger in quick succession, the sound of his gun not much more than a whisper. I heard a thud as Detective Hunt took a bullet, slamming backward into the wall. Cool and in full possession of his senses, her partner aimed his gun at Marco, pulling the trigger three times in quick succession, the sound loud and harsh, each bullet finding its target, dropping Marco to the ground. His body crumpled before me, his right arm arranged at a weird angle at his side. I could see blood forming a stain on the front of his shirt. I quickly crawled the few feet over to him, pulling his gun out of his hand and then sitting back on my haunches, evaluating his condition. With blood now visibly seeping out from his backside, I looked down into his eyes. For the first time in my life, I saw someone dying.
Marco whispered, “I curse you,” his voice rough and faraway. A moment later, he died. There was complete silence, no one sure what to do.
Then all hell broke loose at the front door.
“Everybody freeze! FBI! Don’t move!” Williams and five FBI agents, three men and two women, fanned out from the door, guns drawn, federal badges visible on their vests. I could see Williams surveying the scene, trying to figure out what had just happened.
From the opposite corner of the room, I heard Detective Hunt yell out, her voice strident and clear, “NYPD. We’re on the scene. Everything is under control.”
She was on her feet. I realized then she was wearing a bulletproof vest. Detective Hunt’s partner appeared over my right shoulder, gently pulling the gun out of my hand. I let go without hesitation and heard a sharp intake of breath. Over my opposite shoulder, I saw a mixture of fear and pain and anguish on Maggie’s face. I shook my head to let her know he was gone. She put her hands to her face and started to cry. I stood up to comfort her, but she shrugged off my touch.
Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion. I tried to get my bearings. Off to the side, I spotted Luci. He was keeping Nickels under control, his lips moving close to Nickels’ ear. Nickels looked scared, his eyes darting my way and then veering away as if he wasn’t supposed to be looking at me. I spotted Donovan near the bar, Gino standing beside him. I was sure the sight of the NYPD, coupled with the entrance of the FBI, had made Gino think twice about throwing his support behind his now dead capo. Donovan appeared calm and relaxed. More NYPD police streamed in through the front door. Most of the dining and bar patrons had bunched together toward the front of the restaurant, wanting to be as far away from the dead body as possible. I gave the restaurant a once-over, and then looked around a second time. Joey was gone. I turned to where Maggie was standing to see if she was ready to talk, realizing too late she was also gone.
“How you doing?” I heard Luci’s voice in my ear before I realized he was standing beside me.
The panic rising, I said, “Where did Maggie go? Where’s Joey?”
Luci put a reassuring hand on my shoulder to calm me down. “They’re gone. I saw Joey take her through the kitchen doors.”
Donovan found his way over to us. He was staring at Nick Nickels Jr., who was sitting quietly in his chair, his date trying to comfort him. They both appeared to be in shock.
“Who’s that guy?” Donovan asked.
“He’s the main reason I hired you.”
“Nick Nickels Jr.? He followed you across the country?”
Luci said, “Not according to him. Pure coincidence. This is his favorite restaurant when he’s in New York.”
Nickels glanced away from the concerned attentions of his date and our eyes met. He was unable to hold my gaze for even a moment, immediately looking away. All I saw there was fear.
“What did you say to him, Luci?”
“Just cleared the air. I don’t think you’ll need to worry about him anymore, Jon. Or his father for that matter.”
“I want to know what she’s doing here?” Donovan asked. “That wasn’t a coincidence, I’m sure.”
Luci and I both looked in the direction of Donovan’s gaze, seeing Detective Hunt work the room.
At the moment, I didn’t care why she was here. She’d saved my life. I would have to thank her. A sound from the front of the restaurant grabbed my attention. I spied Williams doing his best to take charge of the scene. Several police officers were asking people to take a seat.
“Jon Fixx!”
Williams came charging my way. Luci and Donovan immediately closed ranks in front of me. Marco’s crumpled and lifeless body stopped Williams in his tracks. He stared down at the dead FBI informer for several moments, his body more tense the longer he stood there. When he finally looked up at me, the anger in his eyes was palpable. He quickly closed the distance between us, coming up short when he realized Luci and Donovan were not easily intimidated. I tapped them each on the shoulder, letting them know it was okay to move aside. I stepped in between them, going toe to toe with Williams. He had a good four inches on me so I had to crane my neck to look into his eyes.
He glowered at me. ”You’re in a lot of trouble.”
“Hey, I didn’t shoot him. Her partner did.” I pointed at Detective Hunt who had hustled across the room to join the conversation.
&n
bsp; Detective Hunt interjected, “You two know each other?”
I responded, “We go way back. His cousin is sleeping with my ex-girlfriend.”
Pointing at Marco’s body, Williams asked, “What happened to him?”
“He pulled a gun. Discharged it, in fact. I took a bullet in the gut. My partner shot him.” Williams glanced down at Detective Hunt’s stomach, as if he was wondering where the hole was. Hunt added, “The vest stopped it.”
“What were you doing here in the first place?” Williams asked.
“The deceased is a suspect in a murder case. Just a hunch really, but now I guess maybe it was a good hunch,” Detective Hunt answered.
Mosconi! Somehow, she’d connected Marco to Mosconi’s death. I wondered what she knew.
Detective Hunt gave him an unflinching look. “May I ask what you and your federales are doing invading my crime scene?”
Williams stared at her doing everything he could to control his temper. Unable to keep my mouth shut, I added, “Yeah, Agent Ted, why don’t you tell her what you’re doing here?”
Without hesitating, Williams threw a right cross straight at my chin, but I had figured he might react that way so I was ready for it. Using the years of training Luci had given to me, I tilted my head back and to the left just enough to watch the fist swish past my chin by millimeters. As my body swayed, I allowed the power to gather in my fist, bringing it up hard and fast, shoving my feet toward the ground and shifting my hips to give the punch added force. My fist connected with Williams’ jaw, a solid force of bone on bone. The power of my punch lifted him off his feet and sent him onto his back with a loud thud.
Recovering from the initial blow, Williams scrambled to his feet, seething. He lunged at me, only to be met by Donovan and Luci quickly closing ranks again to protect me. They both shook their heads in warning as Williams pulled up short.
Detective Hunt took a step toward my FBI nemesis. “Agent Williams, if you can’t control yourself, I’m going to have to ask you to leave my crime scene.”
Williams made no further move, though his anger only appeared to increase. From the corner of my eye, I spotted Marco’s shoes, covered in the blood still seeping from his body. The sight sobered me up. Someone had just been killed. Suddenly, in the time it would take me to snap my fingers, I dropped to my knees and threw up.
Over the next two hours, the police interviewed every patron present in the restaurant. As an associate of Marco’s, Gino was taken in for questioning related to the murder of Jim Mosconi. Detective Hunt turned out to be an ally, while Williams and his FBI agents became a nuisance to the NYPD. Later in the evening, I had settled in a corner with Luci and Donovan, waiting for Detective Hunt to release us. Williams stomped over to me, two agents in tow demanding I leave with him for questioning.
“I can’t leave,” I said. “The NYPD has asked me to remain here for questioning.”
“Look, Fixx, I need to ask you questions about Marco Balducci.”
Detective Hunt stepped in. “What is your interest in the deceased, and why do you need to question Mr. Fixx?” she asked. “You still haven’t explained to me, Agent Williams, what you’re doing at my crime scene.”
He turned on her, irritated. “Look, Detective, as I’ve already explained, we’re investigating a federal case that I cannot discuss with you, but Jon Fixx may have information about the case that could be useful to us.”
“Does this information have anything to do with the deceased Marco Balducci?”
Williams responded with a frustrated silence.
“Well, then, Mr. Fixx stays here. I’m not through with him.”
“I need to take him in for questioning.”
“Are you charging him with anything?”
Williams said nothing, staring at his interlocutor.
“If not, I’m going to ask you as friendly as I can to please get the hell out of here. I’ve had enough. You know as well as I do that if you’re not charging him with anything specific, you don’t have a legal right to take him in. In addition, if you continue to harass my witness, I will consider you to be interfering in a murder investigation.”
“Murder? Your partner shot him,” Williams spat out.
Detective Hunt’s irritation grew. “I’m referring to Jim Mosconi. As I said before, Marco Balducci is a prime suspect in that case.”
Williams responded, “That was ruled a suicide.”
Williams’ answer gave Detective Hunt pause. She studied his face a moment. “You’re familiar with the case, I see. Maybe you can shed some light on it, Agent Williams.”
Williams knew he’d said more than he should have. “I can only tell you what I read in the papers.”
Detective Hunt nodded her head. They stared at each other in a standoff. Finally, with a disparaging look my way, Williams turned around and left, his lackeys in tow. I figured I hadn’t seen the last of him, but I was glad that for now I wouldn’t have to deal with Ted Williams any longer.
Detective Hunt turned to us, saying in a conspiratorial whisper, “FBI agents are such egomaniacs.” She chuckled at her own joke and then went off to confer with a police officer requiring her attention.
Luci, Donovan, and I sat back and waited our turn. When Detective Hunt finally got to us, about half the restaurant patrons had already been questioned and released. She interviewed Luci and Donovan in turn, quickly moving through her questions with them. Other than what they had witnessed, they had little to say.
Cranston’s arrival interrupted my Q&A.
Detective Hunt introduced herself to Cranston as the officer in charge. He seemed to take it all in stride, because, I assumed, Vespucci had already given him a shortened version of events. When she discovered Cranston and I knew each other, she wanted to know how, which gave me the perfect segue into what I did for a living, and why I was in New York writing Marco and Maggie’s love story. My story sounded plausible, especially because it was the truth. Eventually, Cranston excused himself, explaining that his wife would get worried if he was gone too long. He made his way over to my friends, letting them know, I learned later, that Cheryl was at our disposal for the remainder of the evening.
I provided Detective Hunt with the sanitized version of my involvement with Marco and Maggie, giving no indication that I had any idea of Marco or Vespucci’s involvement in the shadier side of life. When she asked me about my interest in Jim Mosconi, I apologized for not telling her the truth when we first met, explaining that Mosconi’s seemingly paranoid nature had encouraged me to be careful about explaining my connection to him. I now told her that I only contacted him as a source to get some background history on the New York Underworld to provide some general color for my story. From the look on her face, I knew she wasn’t buying it, but she let it pass and didn’t ask any further questions on the subject. I was grateful for her discretion. She did want to know what I was doing with Marco alone that evening, and I told her the truth, sort of. I was discussing his life before he got engaged.
When she finished questioning me, I asked, “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“Why was Marco Balducci a prime suspect in Jim Mosconi’s murder?” I was fishing to see how much she knew.
“I was hoping you could help me with that. Almost all Mosconi’s notebooks were gone. We couldn’t find anything useful. So we’re not really sure.”
“If you didn’t find any information in Mosconi’s notes, how did you get onto Marco’s trail?” I was confused. If Detective Hunt was telling the truth, she didn’t know what Mosconi had discovered about Marco but was following him anyway.
Her eyes bore into mine, searching for the truth hidden behind my blank stare. I could tell she was weighing the pros and cons of what to disclose to me, and how much.
“Mosconi sent a letter to his attorney with instructions that it be forwarded to th
e authorities if he were to die unexpectedly. The letter said that it would most likely be at the hands of one of the people he listed. Marco Balducci was at the top of the list.”
Mosconi was smarter than I gave him credit for. “Did he give any reason why these people wanted to kill him?”
A smile crept across Detective Hunt’s face, as if she were reading my mind. “You know why Balducci wanted to kill Mosconi.” There was no doubt in her voice.
“Why do you say that?”
“Just a hunch. In fact, you’re the only connection I have between Jim Mosconi and Marco Balducci at the moment.”
I didn’t know what to say. I was not about to tell her everything I knew.
Detective Hunt read the concern on my face. “Don’t worry, Jon, I don’t think you and your friends are guilty of anything. In fact, as far as I’m concerned, this case is closed. My partner and I were having dinner here. A suspect in a murder case happened to be here as well, and he started waving a gun around and got shot. Case closed.”
I breathed a sigh of relief. Soon after questioning me, she released us. Luci and I found our way out to the street. Donovan indicated he needed to speak with Detective Hunt privately. When he emerged from the restaurant a few minutes later, Luci and I both turned to him, waiting for an explanation. With a sheepish grin, he held up a business card, flipping it over to indicate handwriting on the back.
“I got her cell number.”
Luci asked, “Think she carries her gun everywhere?”
“I’d like to find out,” Donovan said.
A moment later, Cheryl pulled up to the curb. The three of us rushed the back door before Cheryl had a chance to exit the driver’s seat to hold it open for us. As we drove out of Manhattan, Cheryl explained what had happened with the FBI. They’d pulled her over at about 6:40 p.m. When they realized she was alone, they got angry, wanting to know where she’d dropped me, but she said she never answered questions for authorities without her attorney present. Unless they were going to charge her with a crime, they needed to let her go on her way. I would have loved to see Williams’ reaction. Once they ran the plates on the limousine, however, they discovered who she worked for and put it all together. They left her at the side of the road. After that, she called Luci to warn us and then called Cranston, who advised her to return to the restaurant. I thanked her profusely for her discretion, wondering to myself what would have happened if we hadn’t led the FBI on a wild goose chase. If they’d shown up a few minutes earlier at the restaurant, the outcome might have been very different. I may have been the one in a body bag.
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