A Matter of Blood

by Catherine Maiorisi

  “McGivens said you don’t have the chops to kill,” Kelly said. He lunged.

  She side-stepped. “He’s right,” she said, pivoting, and kicking him in the balls. He screamed, fell to the floor, and curled into a ball, gasping. “But,” she whispered in his ear, “I’ll bet my friend Jimmy failed to tell you how much I love kicking bad guys in the balls.” She knelt on his chest and pulled his hands away from his crotch, one at a time. Using her right hand to support her left, she cuffed him. She straightened. “Sorry, Chief Kelly. My foot slipped,” she said in a loud clear voice so the recorder hidden in her barrette could pick it up. “You are seriously out of shape. Be sure to use the gym in jail.”

  As she was Mirandizing him, her backup rushed in. She grinned at Watkins, Parker, Winfry, and FBI Agent Trillums, who gave her a thumbs-up. “Chief Aiden Kelly, you are under arrest for theft, money laundering, racketeering, and the murder of drug dealers Lester Rodriques, Tony Blackwell, and Jaime Nunca and his wife and three children.”

  “And the murder of Officer Vanessa Forrest.” Captain Winfry stared down at Kelly. “You dared offer your condolences at my daughter’s funeral after ordering the hit, you bastard.”

  Corelli’s eyes widened. Now she understood why Winfry had taken her under his wing. By the time she’d gotten wind of the order to execute Vanessa it was done and she’d been filled with shame and guilt at her failure to save an honorable officer. After she aborted the operation she fingered the two cops that had assassinated her. But she hadn’t known Winfry was Vanessa’s father. She signaled the uniforms standing in the doorway. “Take him in.”

  They pulled Kelly up and started toward the door. He stopped in front of her and locked his arrogant blue eyes on hers. He leaned in close and whispered. “This isn’t over, Corelli. Give my regards to your family.”

  Chapter Forty-Six

  The Harley led the parade of NYPD and FBI cars back to the station. Corelli should have been jubilant. And she was. Sort of. Bringing Righteous Partners down, completing the gig she’d signed on for with the FBI, and mitigating her failure, were all causes for celebration. But she took Kelly’s threat seriously. It wasn’t over. Guys like Aiden Kelly and Jimmy McGivens thought stealing from and killing drug dealers and their families was acceptable, and they believed they were entitled to the spoils. Anyone who crossed them had to be eliminated. They would find a way to hurt her and the best way was through her family. The only way to keep her family safe was to do what they wanted, hold the press conference tomorrow and hope they kept their word.

  As the caravan rolled across the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge, Brooklyn opened up before her, on the left Bay Ridge, on the right Fort Hamilton, Dyker Heights and Bensonhurst. Bensonhurst. Maybe there was another way.

  Her spirits lifted when they arrived at the station. Someone had alerted the media and reporters and camera people from every TV, radio, and print news organization in the city were milling about. Her anger at the media notwithstanding, she had the intense pleasure of taking Chief Aiden Kelly on the “perp walk” through the hungry pack. She’d insisted Parker hold his other side, the side closest to the media people. Wearing sunglasses to deal with the flashing cameras she smiled at the screamed questions and the attempts to push mikes in her face. Kelly didn’t cover his face or duck. He stood straight and stared at the cameras. As she pulled him along, he screamed, trying to be heard above the roar, that Detective Corelli was up to her dirty tricks. But the press must have been briefed because they didn’t give him a break. She booked Kelly, took a few congratulatory calls, and met with Winfry, who suggested she take a couple of hours of quiet time at home. Parker dropped her off and promised to come back in an hour.

  It had come to her on the ride back. One call would do it. She only had to ask. But it would go against everything she believed in. How could she ask a bad person for help, especially since this bad person and others like him were the reason she had become a cop? In the old days, she was like her father. She’d known exactly what was right and what was wrong. It was her strength and her weakness, and she always did what she knew was right. Had going undercover, living a lie and dealing with people who had no morals, thrown off her moral compass? Was that why she was considering asking a criminal to help her? No. It was the situation. She’d never faced a moral dilemma like this. The right thing, the moral thing, would be to let the system take care of it. But when you were up against ruthless people who played by their own rules, the right thing was often the wrong thing. She now had a very personal understanding that sometimes good people had no alternative but to do something illegal to accomplish a good.

  She showered to clear her head, but it didn’t relax her. Too wired for coffee, she brewed a cup of peppermint tea, pulled the shades, lit candles and a stick of incense, and stretched out on the sofa in the semi-darkness to focus on the problem. But the rage propelled her to her feet. She began to pace. She was thinking morals, but Jimmy McGivens and Aiden Kelly were criminals of the worst kind, selfish bastards who put themselves above morals. Even if she did as they’d ordered, held a press conference and gave up the job, it wouldn’t be enough. She would have to pay for her part in putting them in jail. And her family was her Achilles’ heel. She picked up her tea, walked to the window, and stared at the Hudson River toward the bend in the island that blocked her view of the Statue of Liberty. Out of nowhere, it seemed, a huge ocean liner materialized and slowly cruised up the Hudson toward midtown. She watched it sail by. Life is like that. There’s always something unexpected—good things, bad things, ambiguous things, things you can’t control. It was childish to say this isn’t how it’s supposed to be, or it’s not fair. What is, is, and you deal from there. She had established the rules. She could break them.

  She picked up the phone and dialed. “Hey Sal, Chiara. Thanks for leaving Toricelli’s name out of the article about the rescue of his grandson.” She took a deep breath. “Can you put me in touch with Toricelli?”

  Sal said he would call, but it was complicated and would take a while. He would call someone who had to call someone and eventually somewhere along the line Toricelli would get the message and send a lieutenant to bring her to him, probably late that night. Decision made, she felt lighter. She dressed and was waiting when Parker buzzed to say she was downstairs. Watkins would meet them at Winter’s office. There was still one more piece to uncover.

  She was certain the list provided by Cummings and Rieger was complete, that it included the ones she’d exposed and those she hadn’t gotten, including all the ringleaders. She’d wanted Kelly for herself but she’d left the arrest of the others on the list to Winfry, so she could get back to the Winter case. She was positive that Kelly had killed Winter but she needed the proof. He must have a place where he kept the cash and drugs they stole until he could dispose of them, and maybe the pyramid was there. Teams of detectives were searching his house and cars and the farm where he kept his horses. And Winter must have had a place to store the cash until she could dispose of it. They’d determined she’d paid a lot of bills in cash. Rino, of course, hadn’t reported any income so he was going to be busy with narcotics and the IRS. Cora Andrews, the housekeeper, on the other hand, had duly reported the correct income and paid taxes on it each year, the same with the office cleaning service. But that was a drop in the bucket compared to the amount of money Righteous Partners had stolen. She guessed Winter had a ton of cash sitting someplace close where she could get at it.

  Parker stopped in front of 63 Wall Street. “You really think she was storing the cash here?”

  Corelli smiled. “I do.” She gave Parker the once-over. “You gonna crawl on the floor like that?”

  Parker looked down at her suit. “Why wouldn’t I?”

  “Your designer suit might get dirty or worse yet, stained, and what would Senator Daddy think?”

  “I noticed you changed out of your jeans and motorcycle jacket. Aren’t you worried?”

  “I’m not prissy, like you.”


  “I’m ready, if you are,” Parker said, exasperation in her voice.

  They tore Winter’s office apart, looking for a safe under the carpeting, behind the furniture, even removing the ceiling tiles, but they found nothing. Finally, Corelli plopped down on Winter’s sofa. Watkins and Parker sat in the chairs facing her. Doubt on their faces. Could she be wrong? No. She was sure Winter was laundering money for Righteous Partners.

  She couldn’t see Winter lugging a bag full of cash home and hiding it there, and she didn’t go to banks, so forget a lock box. It had to be here, somewhere close. She stared out the window and thought about Winter. Greedy. Untrusting. Paranoid about security. Sadistic. Power hungry. She put herself above others, her throne a desk and chair on a platform, her riches on display. She held everything close.

  Corelli got up and examined the platform. The carpeting was nailed to the sides, so it couldn’t be moved. She pushed the chair aside and got down on her hands and knees. Parker and Watkins moved around to observe her. She wasn’t sure what she was looking for, maybe a loose board. Then her finger found a space. She moved closer to see what was there and pressed. A click and part of the platform popped up about an inch. She glanced up, smiling. Parker and Watkins knelt down as she folded the trapdoor back. The three of them stared into the hole.

  “A safe,” Parker said. “How did you know?”

  “I tried to put myself in her head. I knew it couldn’t be far. She would want to hold it and count it and enjoy the feeling of being smarter and richer than everybody else.”

  Corelli didn’t think Winter would use the same combination for this safe as she had for the one she shared with her assistant, but she gave it a twirl then had Watkins call Gus and ask for Aphrodite’s birth date, but that didn’t work either.

  She sat back on her heels. “We need the name of the company that installed the other safe.”

  “I have it.” Parker thumbed through her notebook. “Gingrich Security Services.” She read off the emergency cell phone number and Watkins punched it into his phone.

  “Let’s close it up. I’d like to see what he knows about it,” Corelli said. They closed the panel and moved the chair back. “I’d also like to get pictures of him opening it.”

  Forty-five minutes later, Watkins escorted Will Gingrich into the office and introduced them. “As you thought, Mr. Gingrich did install a second safe for Ms. Winter.”

  “Here or at her home?”

  Gingrich grinned. “Under that platform.”

  Corelli smiled. “Very appropriate for Connie Winter, sitting on her money.”

  “The carpeting is nailed to the sides so the platform can’t be moved,” Gingrich said. “She wanted to be sure no one would accidentally stumble on the safe. Shall I show you?”

  “Let’s get the photographer in here first,” Corelli said.

  Parker left the room and returned with the forensic photographer, who had been waiting in the reception area.

  With the photographer videotaping, Gingrich repeated Corelli’s action and popped the panels open, exposing the safe. He opened the safe and stepped back. Corelli knelt. Next to some personal papers, there were rubber-banded stacks of hundred-dollar bills. Millions as far as she could tell, some packages of white powder, probably cocaine, a number of dated hard drives, and a stack of dated discs. Corelli sorted through the discs. Many were labeled, Righteous Partners/Chief Aidan Kelly. She looked at Gingrich. “Is there a camera here?”

  Gingrich nodded. “She was one paranoid lady. She swore me to secrecy but I guess it doesn’t matter now.” He pulled out the center drawer of her desk, removed a false back and pointed to a switch. “The switch turns on a movement-activated video camera. No movement, no recording. When the hard drive is almost full the unit emits a low humming sound. When she got the warning she would call me and we’d meet here late at night. I’d replace the drive and sometimes she asked me to download certain days to discs.” He pressed a panel on the wall behind her desk, exposing a narrow space with shelves stacked with blank discs and unused hard drives. When the wall was closed, an embedded camera focused on Winter’s desk. “She always paid in cash.”

  They retrieved the final hard drive and watched him download the last two days to discs. He explained how to view the discs and they packed up everything and carted it back to the precinct.

  After stashing the cash in the station safe, Corelli invited Captain Winfry and the detectives who had assisted in the investigation to view some discs with her in the conference room. They started with the disc from her last day. It corroborated the stories told by Cummings, Rieger, Gus, Gussie, Gertrude, Aphrodite, and John. It showed an enraged Gussie striking Winter with the pyramid, and Gertrude hitting her in the forehead with the desk phone and running out of the room.

  When they got to Winter’s interaction with Chief Aiden Kelly, the excitement in the room was palpable.

  “Holy, shit,” Kelly said. “What happened here?”

  Winter was groggy. “My fucking son and that bitch Gertrude. They’ll pay for this. I think I need a doctor. Where the hell is the phone? Never mind. Get my cell phone from my bag.”

  He ignored her request. “Righteous Partners discussed your demand and we feel the split we’ve been doing is fair.”

  “I’m the one who has all this cash piling up and no way to spend it.”

  “That’s your problem. We’re taking the risk and we have a big payroll.”

  “It’s not optional, Aiden. One phone call and your little game will be over and you and your friends will be in jail.” She rubbed her forehead. “Shit I have a headache. Call me an ambulance.”

  He stared at her. He bent down, picked up the pyramid and hit her on the top of the head, a couple of times. He checked her carotid artery, and satisfied she was dead, wrapped the pyramid in a newspaper he had in his gym bag and put the pyramid in the bag. He used his handkerchief to wipe prints from the liquor cabinet and the bottles inside. Then he scanned the room and left.

  Watkins stopped the tape. The room was silent for a few seconds before Corelli said, “Gotcha, Kelly.” Everybody laughed.

  After a break, they viewed the first Righteous Partners disc featuring Chief Kelly explaining where the money came from and how it could benefit Winter Brokerage. Then Winter laid out the terms of a mutually beneficial deal, a deal that she would later unilaterally decide to renegotiate. As she watched, Corelli realized that if Winter hadn’t been so greedy, she might still be alive.

  Corelli and Winfry made the calls that needed to be made. The ADA viewed the discs and agreed that Kelly should be charged with Winter’s murder in addition to the other charges. There was still a lot to do, but Corelli needed to be home to wait for Toricelli’s call. She was wiped out so she sent everybody home for the evening. Parker drove her to the Gianopolus house so she could let them know they’d found the murderer.

  As they were driving downtown so Parker could drop her off at home, Corelli needled Parker. “So Ms. ADA, did we build a solid case? Will Senator Daddy be proud?”

  “You know, you are a pain in the ass, Corelli. Yes, we did, or you did. But I’m not sure what Senator Daddy will think because like your Italian daddy, he doesn’t want to acknowledge that I’m a cop.”

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  She lay down to wait for the call. Thinking about Toricelli brought memories of her adored brother Luca lying in his coffin. She’d been devastated by his death. Toricelli controlled the neighborhood, and the mafia-style murder, shooting out his eyes, convinced her that Toricelli was responsible. She’d been crazed and craved revenge. She’d needed to do something to make the pain go away. Now twenty-five years later, she smiled at the memory of her fifteen-year-old self, staring into the eyes of Luigi Toricelli, the most dangerous man in the city. She’d promised to kill him like he had killed her older brother, with a bullet in each eye, but only after she cut off his balls.

  She hadn’t considered that Toricelli could easily have had he
r killed, or worse, he could have laughed at her. But to his credit, he’d treated her with respect, listened, and let her express her rage, first in English and then in Italian. She’d wanted to be sure he understood. He’d denied killing Luca and promised to find out who did and tell her. Of course, he never did and she still wondered if he was responsible.

  Many teenage boys in the neighborhood romanticized the money and glamour of the mob and didn’t understand what they were getting into, but not Luca. He had hoped to go to college and would have been at school that September if her father hadn’t demanded that he stay to work in the restaurant. His death was the pivotal event in her life. It changed her from an obedient daughter to a somewhat wild but serious, determined teenager, committed to living her life her way, focused on being independent and doing what she needed to do to fight the Toricellis of the world.

  So much for fighting the Toricellis of the world. Here she was waiting for him to call so she could beg for his help. She smiled at the irony. But as much as she hated the thought, she’d accepted that there are times that evil is the only weapon against evil. The phone startled her. A woman’s voice said, “Hi. I’m waiting in front of your building. I’m driving the red Honda Civic tonight.”

  She changed cars three times for her protection, so no one could connect them.

  He was in the fourth car and spoke in Italian when she slid onto the backseat. “Buona notte, Detective Corelli.” It was dark, but she recognized his voice.

  “Buona notte, Signor Toricelli.”

  He continued in Italian. “You wanted to speak to me?”

  She responded in Italian. “Yes. Thank you for coming out so late.” He was quiet, as if he understood how hard this was for her. “I need your help.” She hesitated, wondering if he was smiling at the irony, but pushed on. He was her only hope. “My family is being threatened, and those responsible are standing in the shadows so I can’t see them or fight them. They say I can only save my family by dishonoring myself. But, I don’t believe they’ll honor that agreement.”