by G. K. Parks
“Let the dead rest in peace, Derek.” Swallowing, I made sure no one emerged from the conference room. “Why’d you call me and not a more official number?”
“Something’s not sitting right.” A car door slammed in the background. “A bunch of uniforms are told by their lieutenant to falsify their reports, then the guy’s partner gets a promotion so he can’t investigate, and when IA cleans house, everyone gets an early retirement, and it’s all swept neatly under the rug.”
“What are you saying?” My gut knew what he was saying, but I wanted someone else to say the words besides me.
“It’s proof Vincenzo’s got police brass in his pocket. Worst case, it could be someone from IA.”
“Goddamn.”
“Exactly. I’m on my way to you now. Pull Cooper aside, and I’ll fill him in. There’s no reason for you to get into deeper shit than you’re already swimming through.”
By the time Heathcliff arrived, Moretti had shown up and briefed us on Captain Stephens’ recollection of his partner’s murder. It was basic, preliminary, and sounded rehearsed. Then again, I was suspicious of everyone right now, including Moretti. My paranoia knew no bounds, and everyone was looking like the enemy. Heathcliff entered the conference room and took a seat, trying to appear unobtrusive. After Moretti finished, I pulled Cooper aside. We went down the hall to his office; Heathcliff, Mark, and Moretti all joined us. Casting a curious look at Heathcliff, he launched into his discoveries.
“You’re on administrative leave. What the hell were you thinking?” Moretti scolded.
“Thought I’d throw back a few with some good ‘ol boys.” Heathcliff had spent way too much time with me; he used to be straight-laced and severe, not flippant.
“Nice work,” Cooper commended. “Obviously, we need a new strategy. I bet we’re getting closer and that’s why we’ve been assigned an IA liaison to keep tabs on our progress.” He turned to Moretti. “Can you find out who assigned him?”
“I’ll do my own digging.” Moretti glared at Heathcliff. “In the meantime, you get your ass out of here and away from everything, unless you want your suspension to turn into something more permanent.”
“Yes, sir.” Heathcliff deflated and took a step farther into the background.
“Parker,” Mark had a similar glare, “I hate to say it, but let’s get you wired. You’re going to pay your new best pal a little visit.”
“When?” The last thing I wanted was to go back to Vito’s.
“Now.” Mark threw a look to Cooper who nodded. “Come on, we’ll get you outfitted properly, and I’ll have Darli and Webster keep you in their crosshairs.” Heathcliff caught my eye and mouthed good luck. Game, set, match, douchebag, I thought cynically as I began the task of mentally preparing for another showdown with a crime boss.
* * *
Darli and Webster were in a surveillance van parked down the street from Vito’s bar. They just finished sound check and gave the go-ahead. Mark was in the van, looking anxious.
“Do you want me to go in with you?” he asked.
“It’s my mess to clean up, Jablonsky.” I checked the clip in my gun, holstered my weapon, and hung my credentials from my front pocket. “If you have to come in, then something has gone horribly wrong.” Opening the rear door of the van, I took a slow, deep breath and hopped onto the pavement.
“Alex, don’t do anything stupid.” He was worried, probably more than I was.
“It’d be a shame if I stopped now.”
I shut the door and stared down the street. The goal was to get Antonio Vincenzo’s cooperation, and if that wasn’t possible, then something incriminating would have to suffice. He had cops on the take, and we needed names. Crossing the street, I turned and walked up the opposite side toward Vito’s, palming my cell phone in my jacket pocket. Mark’s number was already punched in; I just had to hit send. It was my secondary plan in case something happened with the wire.
“Ms. Parker,” Vito cooed from a back booth, “did you come to thank me in person?” The muscle from last time was sitting on a barstool.
“Thank you?” My tone was abrasive. “You want gratitude for providing falsified evidence?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Vito had been playing this game for far too long to slip up on anything. “You can tell the agents outside in the van the same thing.” Damn, he must have security cams outside. “Or are they listening now?” He cocked his head to one side. “Hello, federal agents, care to join us for a drink?” I took a step forward, and Muscle stood up, blocking my path.
“Step aside,” I growled. He didn’t even acknowledge my presence; instead, he continued imitating a brick wall.
“It’s okay, Tony. She won’t shoot me. There are too many witnesses out front.” Tony the Muscle extended his hand for my weapon, and I glowered at him.
“This time, I’m holding on to my gun.” Tony cast a look to Vito who imperceptibly gave an okay signal because he stepped out of my way. Taking a seat on the opposite side of the booth, I asked, “Would you care to explain your reasoning behind sending faked footage?”
“Would you care for a drink?” he retorted jovially, disregarding my question; although, his tone was friendly, his eyes were not. “I’d say you’re a red wine type of woman. I’m certain in your line of work you’ve seen a lot of blood. Maybe you’ve shed your fair share or caused others to do the same.” We were staring at one another like two predators preparing to battle over a rotting carcass. “Frankie, bring Ms. Parker a nice glass of red.”
“Are you going to answer my question?”
“Hmm,” he lolled his head against the cushioned backrest, “I thought we had an understanding. I’m a businessman. It’s not in your best interest to renege on a verbal contract.”
“You broke our deal when you supplied phony surveillance footage.” He made a tsk sound. “Was that to send us in the wrong direction? Or did you do it to make sure the guys you have in your pocket stay in your pocket?”
“Honey, if you want something from me, I’d suggest you call off the hounds and lose the goddamn wire.” There was no point in arguing. He had done this his entire life, and he was good. He had never been caught, and there was never enough circumstantial evidence or eyewitnesses to make any charges stick to him. I reached inside my jacket, and Tony practically pounced.
“Stay cool,” I warned. Vito showed the vaguest sign of interest in what I was doing as Frankie set a glass on the table. With any luck, Mark would stay cool too. Unbuttoning my blouse, I untaped the wire and yanked it free before dropping it, to Vito’s satisfaction, in the wine glass. “Happy now?” I asked, surreptitiously reaching into my pocket and hitting the call button before anyone could be the wiser. “Mind if I button up? There’s a draft in here.”
“This is a much more civil way of having a conversation, don’t you agree?” He was focused on my cleavage. “I take it you’re not going to leave well enough alone.”
“Is that supposed to be a threat?”
“No, on the contrary, I’m intrigued that an investigator would bother to look a gift-horse in the mouth. I could have made your case a slam dunk, but instead, you poke around at the footage. Maybe you’ve talked to some people, asked a few too many questions, but then you come back here. You’re either confident or crazy. Which is it?” He was poised to strike. His tone was pure malice. My heart started to race, and chills made the hair on the back of my neck stand at attention. But I remained outwardly calm and disinterested.
“Hell, I’m both.” Body language was a great way to nonverbally communicate, and I stretched out on my side of the booth, opening my body in a confident, relaxed manner, and smirked. It was fucking stupid, but it was the only way I could think to rattle his chain. “Deal’s off. I’m not returning any favors since you haven’t given me anything I want. Tonight, I stopped by to tell you we’re through. You have your inside guys protecting your interests, and that’s great. But you probably shouldn’t count on t
hem much longer. It’s like shooting fish in a barrel. We’re just lining ‘em up now and bam.” I slammed my palm down for emphasis on the bam and hoped Tony wouldn’t turn trigger happy and blow a hole through my brain.
Vito remained unperturbed and motionless. My theatrics didn’t even make him blink. He wasn’t going to flinch. I stood, sipped the wine, and fished out the wire. “Eh, not that great,” I commented before turning and heading for the door. Two steps in, he cleared his throat.
“You shouldn’t play poker, Agent,” he chided. “The truth is written all over your face.” He was talking which meant I had him by the short and curlies, even if he wasn’t willing to admit it. Slowly spinning around to face him, I leaned against an empty booth.
“Hey, whatever you’ve got to tell yourself. It doesn’t make it true though.”
“I have a soft spot for you. You’ve got tenacity and spunk. I’m not too fond of the tenacity, but I’m a playful guy. Spunk’s acceptable in small doses.” He was doing his Godfather impression again. “I have a feeling if you keep this up, something unimaginable might happen, if you catch my drift. You’ve got a pretty face and some great tits. It’d be such a waste.” Veiling a threat in a sexist compliment, I must be on a roll. “How’s about we come to a mutual agreement?”
“Tried and failed. Fool me once, shame on me, but fool me twice,” I scrunched my nose and shook my head emphatically, “nah, I don’t think so.”
“Let bygones be bygones,” he continued. “You and your friends stay away from me and my business, and I’ll give you a name.”
“Whose name?”
He looked past me to a spot on the wall, taking his time to contemplate matters. “The cop that shot you.” I should be a whaler because he bought my act hook, line, and sinker.
“You’re a smart man, so you know one name isn’t going to end this. It’s just a stepping stone in a large-scale investigation.” Parker, shut your mouth, my internal voice berated.
“You really do want to push boundaries.” His voice was back to deadly. I was royally pissing him off. Maybe if he made a move, Mark could ride in and arrest him for assault, attempted murder, or murder, depending on how long it took to get inside the bar.
“What can I say? I’m all kinds of crazy.”
“You back off of me, my clubs, and everything non-police related, and I’ll give you the shooter. Wherever he leads, that’s their problem and not mine.”
“And I’m supposed to take this on good faith?”
“No,” he narrowed his eyes, “it’s this or the alternative. Keep in mind, there’s a lot about you on record. It’d be easy to track your friends, family, that rich boss of yours you’re fucking.” My blood was boiling, and the image of pulling my piece and having a bullet pierce Vito’s skull was tempting, but not today. “Think about the consequences before you decide to take this investigation beyond the scope I laid out for you.”
“I can’t control where the investigation goes once I conclude my role and lose my reinstated status.” It was unlikely the Bureau would drop all investigations into Vito, especially if something tangible surfaced.
“I’ll bear that in mind before doling out consequences.” We were in another standoff. It didn’t matter if I walked out now, or if he said his own father was the shooter. If he wanted to silence me, he would.
“Give me the name.”
Twenty-eight
“What the hell?” Mark gaped in disbelief as I entered the back of the van.
“I know.” I climbed in and pulled the doors shut. “He compliments my face and tits and doesn’t say a word about my ass. I think I have a fantastic ass. Darli, Webster, either one of you want to weigh in on this?” The two male agents looked away, embarrassed for being on the spot as Mark continued his dead-eye stare.
“Smart thinking to phone in. Luckily, we managed to record the entire exchange.” Oh goody, I could listen to Vito’s threats again as if they weren’t already replaying themselves in my brain. My bravado was fading quickly, and my pathetic attempt at joking wasn’t working since Mark was being too serious.
“Mark,” I said quietly. My hands shook, and I rubbed my face so he wouldn’t notice.
“We’ll monitor Vito and his movements. Our ear’s to the ground in case there’s any chatter about a hit. It’ll be okay. You spooked him, and he was reacting. But he’s too smart to make a move on you.”
“Not if it’d be less trouble to remove me from the equation.”
“Then we’ll just have to make sure you’re not too much trouble.”
* * *
I spent the night at the office. Maybe it was to work leads, or maybe it was because I was afraid there would be a horse’s head in my bed when I got home. Although, I doubted Vito could find a horse on such short notice. The next morning, I got out of the small cramped chair behind Mark’s desk that I attempted to sleep in, went down to the locker rooms, took a shower, and tried my best to look as if I was well rested.
“Any word on Eli Gates?” I asked, entering the almost empty conference room. Gates was the name Vito had given us. Darli and Webster had the morning off. Sullivan was tracking everything she could find on Ramirez, his badge, his cohorts, and Captain Stephens’ recollection. Cooper and Mark were the only two people in the conference room. Cooper was on the phone, listening intently to someone on the other end.
“We’ve compiled a list of his aliases. His description’s gone out over the wire. We have employment history and financials, but he might as well be a ghost.”
“Is he on the job?” I asked.
“No,” Mark responded. Narrowing my eyes, I thought about Vito’s words. He said he would give up the cop who shot me. Lying son of a bitch, I thought angrily.
Cooper held up a finger and then hung up the phone. “Actually, he was when he was using the alias John Rodgers. Moretti’s sending over the files now.”
How deep down the rabbit hole was all of this taking us? There was just too much to process. Before anything more could be said, an assistant knocked on the door and requested Agent Jablonsky report upstairs.
“And then there were two,” I said to Cooper as he took a seat at the head of the table.
“I’ve listened to the recording from your conversation yesterday,” he began as I lazily swiveled my chair back and forth. “Are you doing all right?”
“Peachy.”
“Look, I might be able to swing something if you think your family or friends need some protection.”
“Cooper, regardless of what Il Douchebag might threaten, I’m pretty much a solo act. My friends have badges and guns, and the only one who doesn’t has an armed bodyguard. It’s all good, all the time.” He bit his thumbnail and observed silently for a few moments.
“Vincenzo was wrong about one thing yesterday.”
“Yeah?”
“You are a convincing liar. It’s probably why he gave you what he did. You have him running scared, so he’s cutting his losses and moving on.” I sighed, still not willing to drop my poker face. “There’s a loveseat in my office if you don’t go home tonight. It’s probably more comfortable than Jablonsky’s chair.”
“Thanks.”
“But if you change your mind on the detail, let me know. We’ll work something out.”
“We’ll see. I’m hoping this will be done before it comes down to that.”
* * *
An hour later, O’Connell was escorted into the conference room by a probationary agent. Nick looked confused by the escort but let it slide without comment as he handed a stack of files to Cooper.
“Have you been briefed?” Cooper asked, flipping through the pages once before closing the file and passing it to me.
“On what?” O’Connell was behind, and Cooper filled him in as I read through Officer John Rodgers’ personnel file.
Rodgers aka Eli Gates had been in the same class in the academy as Detective Ramirez and Captain Stephens. Rodgers was still a rookie when he was fired for inappropria
te conduct. I grabbed the IA report to get a better look at things. Rodgers and two fellow rookies had been seen brutally assaulting a man in a back alley of a questionable neighborhood. Why the three were in an alley in that particular neighborhood had never been resolved. Although, years later, it was the same neighborhood and same street corner where Detective Ramirez had been the victim of a hit and run.
As I continued perusing the folder, it was apparent the two other rookies had never been positively identified since Gates/Rodgers didn’t snitch on his cohorts. If my suspicions held any credence, then one of the other two rookies must have been Ramirez. Maybe Gates turned resentful, called Ramirez for a stroll down memory lane, and then stole his badge from his cold, dead hand. It would have been the career he never had. Or maybe Ramirez was investigating the cold case and got caught at the wrong end of a speeding car.
“I need a board,” I announced to the two men. “A whiteboard, corkboard, glass on wheels with some markers, hell, cardboard even. Frankly, I don’t care what it is, but it needs to be a decent size that I can either write on or pin things to. Maybe both.” Lack of sleep tends to make me demanding. “There’s too much here to keep straight. For any of us to keep straight.”
“Agent Parker,” Cooper looked utterly amused, the first crack in his monotone, serious exterior, “I shall go find a board for you, milady.”
“Thank you, sir.” It seemed possible I overstepped my position, but Cooper was letting it slide. Maybe my badass attitude and wicked bluffing made him malleable to my requests. The door shut, and O’Connell stared, fascinated.
“Look at you, all dominatrix-like, ordering the men around. Do you want some leather boots and a whip to go with that feisty exterior?”
“Don’t start.”
He chuckled and rested his hips against the tabletop. “Here’s the thing, Heathcliff’s benched for the day. Moretti’s been chewing on something. It’s big, and he isn’t talking. My gut says one of his bosses is a dirtbag, and he’s trying to gain enough evidence before he calls it in. And Thompson’s apparently a secretary because all he’s doing is running errands and making calls.”