Mob Lawyer 5: A Legal Thriller

by Dave Daren

  “You’d be surprised,” I said. “Corporations are some of the biggest crooks in the entire world. My old firm took on plenty of cases where I had to review years’ worth of finances.”

  “We’ll see,” the older Febbo said. “Give him a stack.”

  I took one of the piles of paperwork that the younger capo had started to hand out, and my heart skipped a beat when I realized that the man had a scar along one side of his neck like someone had tried to slit his throat. I tore my eyes away from the bubbled-up flesh when Anthony coughed, and I felt a blush crawl up my cheeks as I realized that I’d practically gaped at the man.

  “What are we looking for?” an older man asked.

  He looked like he was in his early seventies with pale olive skin that was covered in scars and dark age spots. His voice was strong despite the thin body underneath his gray striped suit, and his crystal-blue eyes were as sharp as the blades he probably had stashed somewhere on him.

  “Anything that doesn’t add up,” Sal said. “Find out where they’re hiding their money, what they spend it on, who they give it to.”

  The wraith-like man nodded his head, crossed one leg over the other to support the stack of papers, and then pulled a heavy silver pen out of the inside pocket of his suit.

  The rest of us followed his example as we began the tedious process of combing through the Gryffon Company’s records. The laptop had everything that we could ever want, but Sal was right, it was a lot to go through. Hours passed as each of us flipped through page after page, but no one found anything that stood out.

  I pored through bank records, receipts, and hundreds of transactions. I grabbed a highlighter at one point so that I could make note of any numbers that seemed a little off, but there was no obvious pattern. I didn’t think that the company’s finances would just scream ‘Illegal Operations Here’, but they were better at hiding what they were doing than I expected.

  On hour three the numbers started to blur together until they became nothing more than a meaningless blob of ink on the page. The transactions for paper, office supplies, and cleaners started to sway, and I rubbed my eyes as I tried to get them to stay in place.

  “We should take a break,” Anthony said as he tossed his papers on his father’s desk.

  Only a few weeks ago it had been his desk, but with his father’s return he’d had to learn to sit in the guest chairs. He had earned the respect of the capos without his family’s usual methods, and I was glad that the good man that I had come to work for still resisted becoming a made man. He didn’t need to kill anyone to run the family business, and his father had at least given him a chance to find information on the Serbians without killing or beating anyone.

  “There’s nothing here,” Sal grumbled. “Whatever they’re doing, they’re hiding it better than any of us ever have.”

  “We’ll find something,” the younger Febbo said. “Why don’t we get some dinner? Food and time away will help us to get back on track.”

  “Good idea,” the Mafia boss said as he stood.

  He was a little stiffer than he’d been when I’d first met him when his only concern was whether I was up to the job of saving his son from jail. He’d barely survived the attack on his life that had followed, and we still had no idea who had tried to kill him, but the mafioso was tougher than old shoe leather. He straightened, walked around the desk, and then motioned for the other capos to follow after him.

  I stood up slowly from the spot on the floor that I’d claimed. I was sore all over from the hours of being hunched over, but I stretched from side to side and rolled my shoulders until the aches and pains ebbed away. I was way past ready to eat since it was almost eleven o’clock, and I wondered why Gulia hadn’t come to get us when she’d finished cooking.

  “Hold on for a sec, Hunter,” Anthony said as I started to follow the others out.

  I looked between my employer and the door as my stomach growled in protest. I could smell the food now that the office door was open to the rest of the house, and my mouth watered as I imagined biting into whatever delicious recipe the matriarch had prepared.

  “Don’t worry, it won’t be long,” the younger Febbo laughed when he saw my distraught face. “They won’t start without us. I just want an update on Serafina.”

  I glanced over at the thin capo that still hadn’t moved from his chair. I wondered if the older man needed help, but I wasn’t about to offer it unless he gave some sign that he wanted me to. I had no doubt in my mind that he could still kill me, even if he did look like he was two steps from the grave.

  “You can say whatever you need to in front of Lorenzo,” my employer said when I hesitated.

  “Right,” I said. “Well, she’s out for the moment. They couldn’t charge her for breaking into her father’s car when he’d established that it was in her care. They did want to slap her with a disturbing the peace charge, but there were no complaining witnesses so they had to let that go, too.”

  “Good,” Anthony said with a relieved sigh.

  “There’s something else, though,” I said. “Something that Serafina said struck me. Even if they’d managed to make the original charges stick, they wouldn’t have been able to get anything more than probation. I have a few cases that are similar in the other boroughs, and I think I know why.”

  “Well, spit it out,” the mafioso across the desk from me said.

  His temper flared, and I realized that he was probably as hungry as I was. I needed to make this fast so that he could get something to eat or he might lash out at me.

  “If your associates are all on probation, then the cops can search their stuff whenever they want without a warrant,” I replied.

  “Shit,” Anthony said as he sank into the chair. “You’re right. You’ve done pretty good at getting most of the cases dropped, though.”

  “Yes,” I agreed. “But they’ve set out a huge net across the entire city. All they need is one or two searches that lead somewhere, and then they’ll have leverage on you.”

  “You think the mayor is in on it?” my employer asked.

  “I do,” I said. “And Chief Flores. Their strings are being pulled by Galic and the other Serbians, but with almost every DA on their payroll, it’s only a matter of time before they come up with something useful. And searching anyone on probation is a completely legal way for them to spy on the family.”

  “We’re going to have to look out for even petty charges,” the younger Febbo said with a sigh. “And we’ll have to make sure that our guys don’t carry anything on them that could be a problem. At least, not if they’re on probation.”

  “There’s only a few at the moment,” I reminded him. “Most of the cases are bogus, and I can get them thrown out.”

  “But there are enough,” Anthony said. “Okay. We’ll talk to anyone on probation and let them know to be extra careful until we can get rid of these bastards.”

  “I’ll talk to them,” Lorenzo said as he pushed his frail body out of his plush leather chair. “Just give me a list of names.”

  “I appreciate that,” the mafioso said. “Hunter will get that to you after dinner. For now, let’s go downstairs and eat before mom comes up and gets us herself.”

  I nodded my head in agreement. I liked Gulia, but I did not want to get on her bad side by being late to dinner. I followed Anthony and the older capo out of the office, shut the door behind me, and then trotted down the stairs toward the smell of garlic and tomatoes.

  “Took you long enough,” Sal commented when we joined the rest of the family.

  “We had some things to talk about,” Anthony told him. “About probations.”

  The older Febbo’s eyes narrowed, but he nodded in approval. He waved his hand at us to tell us to take our seats, and I knew that after dinner he’d want a full explanation.

  I took the only chair that was left after Anthony and Lorenzo had chosen their seats. I was across from Anthony’s younger sister, Annie, and she grinned and waved at me with
her usual bright smile. I returned the greeting before I turned my attention to the spread of food in front of us.

  Gulia had outdone herself, which was something I seemed to say every time I made the drive to Riverhead. She’d made enough fresh focaccia for all of us to eat our fill on that alone, and the scent of tomatoes and rosemary drifted up from the platters. She’d also baked feta cheese into it in the shape of roses to go along with the focaccia, to be followed by a massive bowl of spaghetti with fat meatballs, parmesan chicken, and antipasti with sliced black olives.

  Everyone waited until after Sal, Anthony, and then Gulia made their plates before they began to dig in. The first few minutes were filled with silence and the sounds of eating as we all dug into the delicious meal. A red wine was brought out, and I sipped the berry noted drink between bites of rich red sauce and mozzarella.

  “Are you finished printing?” Gulia asked to break the silence.

  “For the moment,” Sal said with a smile to his beautiful wife.

  She had her long auburn hair down around her shoulders, and her hazel eyes were bright with joy as she teased her husband.

  “Good,” the matriarch said. “I think Katrina has commandeered every ream of paper that I had stored in the whole house.”

  “It was for a good cause, cara,” the mafioso said.

  The gorgeous Italian woman rolled her eyes but didn’t ask anything else. She just winked at her husband before she went back to the plate of food in front of her.

  I watched the exchange as intently as I dared. I’d wondered how much the matriarch knew about her husband’s business, since she very carefully didn’t ask a lot of questions, and she was never in the meetings. I had long suspected that she kept her nose out of the family operations, but I was sure that she couldn’t be completely ignorant. I also knew that she’d owned stocks in several Febbo companies, though she’d transferred all of those to Anthony to give him more leverage while Sal had been in the hospital.

  The rest of dinner was filled with idle conversation about the market that Gulia wanted to go to on the weekend, Annie’s latest music obsession, and stories of Michael’s trip to the home country. The capos joined in when the tales of Italy turned toward the winery that Gulia’s father owned, and I ate the rest of the meal in silence while I tried to keep up with the soil science and grapes that everyone discussed.

  “I’ll get some coffee started,” Gulia said when dinner was done.

  The Italian matriarch rose gracefully from her chair and breezed into the kitchen to prepare the espresso.

  “We’ll be on the patio,” Sal said.

  “I’ll help with the coffee,” Annie said.

  Michael followed the two women along into the kitchen while the capos and I made our way out onto the large stone patio. I took a chair next to Anthony as the others sat around the outside table.

  “I want to liquidate the olive company,” the older Febbo said when he was settled.

  “Which one?” Anthony asked.

  “The import,” his father answered. “A few of the smaller companies can go, too. Hunter, do you think you would be able to handle that?”

  “Yes,” I answered.

  I was surprised that Sal would ask me to handle the liquidations since he still had his own lawyer on retainer, and I hoped that it was a sign that the mafioso had begun to trust me more. I suspected that it had something to do with the Serbian guard that I took down during the break-in, but I didn’t want to get ahead of myself.

  “Good,” the head of the Febbo family said with a nod of his head. “If you do a good job with the paperwork, then I might have some other work for you.”

  “Yes, sir,” I said.

  Anthony gave me a small smile while my mind raced.

  The Febbo patriarch had planned to make the family business legit before the attempt on his life, but he hadn’t mentioned it since he had returned. He glanced around the table at his capos, and I noted that more than just Jovanni seemed tense despite their placid faces.

  “How long will it take you?” Sal pressed.

  “I’m not sure,” I hedged. “I’ve been thinking about hiring a paralegal since Liz is back in London. With all of the cases against our guys, I’m drowning in paperwork.”

  “No one outside of the family,” the mafioso warned. “We don’t need some estraneo getting into our business.”

  “My nephew could do the job,” Jovanni said. “He’s been looking for work. Just graduated with a bachelor’s in criminal justice, but it’s been tough with the current political atmosphere in the city.”

  “Tommaso graduated?” the frail-looking capo asked as he shifted in his seat.

  “Top of his class,” the other man responded with a proud smile. “He’s a good boy, Hunter. He’ll help you with whatever you need, and he knows not to discuss the family business.”

  “And he’s a decent fighter, if memory serves,” Anthony said. “Which will be good, since you attract so many admirers.”

  “What can I say, I’m a popular guy,” I chuckled.

  I wasn’t sure a kid fresh out of college would be able to help me with all of the paperwork that I needed to file, but at least he had a criminal justice degree. I wouldn’t need to explain all of the details of the motions that needed to be filed. I could also use an extra pair of eyes since Anthony was right, trouble had been following me.

  So far no one except for Hank and Liz had been out to my new house, but it was only a matter of time before the Serbians or the feds showed up. The office that I’d set up would be big enough for two, and if Tommaso was a decent fighter, then I wouldn’t have to worry about him if someone stopped by unannounced.

  “I’ll tell Tommaso to wait for your call,” Jovanni said. “I’ll give you his number.”

  “Coffee is ready, gentlemen,” Gulia said as she swept out onto the porch with Annie and Michael on her heels.

  “Grazi, cara,” Sal said after he gave his wife a quick kiss.

  The smell of espresso filled the cool night air, and I wrapped my hands around a warm ceramic mug. I hadn’t realized how cold my hands were, but the heat penetrated into my icy fingers, and the first gulp of the strong brew heated me all the way down to my stomach.

  “It’s good, right?” Annie asked with a smirk. “I added a little sugar and cream to yours. I noticed that you always grimace when you drink it black.”

  “Thanks,” I said as a blush crawled up my cheeks. “I appreciate it.”

  I didn’t think that it was so obvious that I didn’t like the black coffee that the rest of the clan seemed to favor. Gulia’s preferred blend was smooth and rich, but there was always a bitter aftertaste that the creamer helped to cut. I drank the strong brew in silence, glanced at my watch, and then sighed as I realized that it was almost midnight. I had court in the morning, but I wanted to take one more look at the data we’d retrieved from the laptop.

  “I will take your leave, boss,” the older capo said after he set his empty mug on the table.

  “Have a safe drive,” Sal said as he nodded his head in approval. “It’s late. All of you can go.”

  The capos all murmured their thanks as they stood to leave. The frail-looking man took his time to shuffle past, and Jovanni walked beside him as if he was ready to offer his arm at any moment.

  “Are you leaving, too?” Anthony asked me.

  “I’d like to take one more look if that’s okay,” I said. “There’s just something about the numbers that makes me think that there’s a pattern. I just need to see it again.”

  “I thought you might say that,” my employer said with a smirk. “You're like a dog with a bone.”

  “That’s what makes me such a good lawyer,” I countered.

  “Don’t make a mess in my office,” Sal said as he stood with a grunt. “Anthony, you can tell me what you find in the morning.”

  “Yes, sir,” the younger Febbo said.

  I rose and followed Anthony back up to the office. I retrieved my stack o
f papers and plopped down in one of the guest chairs instead of the floor. I had the urge to put my feet up on the desk and stretch out, but that act would probably summon Sal right back to the office so that he could beat me to a pulp.

  I flipped through the pages as I reviewed the numbers that I’d highlighted. There was something about them that bothered me, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. I retrieved my highlighter and began to mark a few new figures that I’d missed before, and it was like a light switched on.

  “There’s a pattern,” I said.

  “Really?” Anthony asked from behind the desk.

  He had his own stack of papers in his hand. He looked so at home behind his father’s desk, like he had when he’d been in charge of the family business, and I wondered again if he would actually walk away from the mob life if he was given the opportunity. He was more like his father than he cared to admit, and his stint as the family leader had revealed that.

  “Yes,” I said. “Twice a month there’s a transfer to another shell corporation. It’s always less than ten thousand dollars so the bank won’t have to report it.”

  “What’s the shell?” my employer asked.

  “Sunshine Real Estate,” I said. “It’s Florida based.”

  “A real estate company,” the young Febbo said.

  He set his papers down and ran his hand down his face with a groan.

  “I’m not sure what it’s for,” I said. “But it’s a start. I can look into it more tomorrow.”

  The mafioso nodded his head before a yawn pulled open his mouth. He blinked a few times while he looked at the numbers in front of him, and tears pooled in the corners of his eyes.

  “Sounds good,” he said. “I’ve managed to connect most of the numbers to receipts and other transactions. There’s still too many that just don’t make any damn sense, though.”

  “We can look at it again later with fresh eyes,” I said as I stood. “I need to head home. I have a case first thing in the morning.”

  “Are you going to be okay to drive?” Anthony asked. “You can stay in the guest room.”