Fade to Black

by David Rosenfelt

  “That was the old you,” she says, once we get in the car.

  “Thank you.”

  “It wasn’t a compliment.”

  “Oh.”

  This could be a really long ride.

  The judge gave the order to shut down cell service in Vegas.

  Roberts was concerned that it would not be enough, that the casinos should also be evacuated. But it didn’t matter what Roberts thought, because the FBI and ATF came in and completely took over the operation.

  And they took a rather aggressive approach, detaining everyone who could possibly be involved. Included in that were Dominic Romano and three of his soldiers, two of whom were the men who helped him get rid of Salvatore Tartaro. One of them has already confessed to being part of his murder.

  Also detained was Daniel Lewinsky’s counterpart at Harriman Hospital, Louis Aldridge, and not surprisingly, he was the one to crack under the pressure. Aldridge confirmed an operation similar to the one at Bergen, and was also able to identify Lucky Linda’s Casino as the target.

  Aldridge’s statement was more than enough to get Dominic Romano arrested, and no doubt will help lead to his conviction. Both of them are going down, though Romano has further to fall. If Aldridge is lucky, he and Romano won’t wind up sharing a cell.

  The FBI and Vegas cops caught an incredible break when the guy tasked with delivering the device to Lucky Linda’s went ahead and did so. He had heard about the cell phone outage, but assumed it was temporary. He couldn’t get Romano on the phone to possibly get different instructions, because, of course, his cell phone didn’t work.

  So he went ahead and left the package, thinking he could always go back and get it, as he had done in the rehearsals. He wound up running into eleven waiting FBI agents, a confrontation which did not go well for him. The device was retrieved and disabled.

  Roberts called me when it was over, and thanked me. “Great work,” he said. “When word about what you did gets out, they’ll comp you the Presidential Suite at the Excalibur.”

  When it comes to public relations, Bradley is no dope.

  Once the arrests are made on this end, he calls a press conference to run his victory lap. He knows that Wiggins and the Bureau will not be far behind, and their track record for crediting local cops with successes is not stellar.

  Bradley goes much further than I would have in revealing the details of what happened. There is no harm in discussing the plot to blow up Paramus Park, since the media had already latched on to that. But he also ties it into Bergen Hospital and Rita Carlisle, and I don’t think we have that buttoned down enough yet to have gone public.

  Fortunately, he just refers to “fraudulent activity” at the hospital, rather than discuss the organ harvesting. But with the murder of Daniel Lewinsky in the public record, and the arrest of Dr. Steven Cassel, the press will grab on to the story like a dog with a bone, and will no doubt uncover everything.

  Bradley is pretty gracious in crediting Nate, Jessie, and me with breaking the case. Of course, because of my existing celebrity status, I am elevated into the number one slot in the subsequent stories.

  I’m aware that nothing I can say will be able to change that, so this time I take a different approach; I don’t say anything. I decline all interviews and encourage Jessie and Nate to do them.

  Jessie does a couple and finds them unpleasant and uncomfortable. Nate does many and eats it up. Every time he does a television interview, he asks us if he had looked fat. Jessie says no and I say yes. But Nate loves doing the interviews, although he’s not thrilled with the food they have in the greenrooms.

  Unfortunately, Wiggins has moved in and cut us out of the legal process; all the arrested parties are under Federal control because it has become a Homeland Security case. Even the implicated hospital employees here and in Vegas are folded into that, and it’s being treated as one large conspiracy.

  That’s all fine as far as ultimately attaining convictions; it’s fair to say that the Feds will be better at that than us, although these are not tough cases to make. The problem from our point of view is that we don’t have the ability to question any of the accused, so as to find out all the details of what went on.

  Bradley asked for and was given an audience with Wiggins to get an update. It’s a courtesy that Wiggins did not have to extend, but he is apparently respectful and appreciative of our efforts. Maybe because he knows that without us, they’d still be shoveling up bodies in Paramus Park and Lucky Linda’s.

  Bradley comes back from his meeting with Wiggins and updates us on what he was told. A number of people have clammed up, but others have talked, and while they haven’t learned everything, they’ve learned a lot. The FBI has their theories about the rest of it, and Bradley wasn’t completely clear on which parts were known to be true, and which were those theories.

  The basic conspiracy was as we believed; organs were being harvested on the black market, at ridiculously high prices. In some cases, like William Simmons, murders were being committed. But in many of the situations, the deaths were either from natural causes or accidental. In some instances, driver’s licenses were being forged after the fact to make it seem as if the deceased was a voluntary organ donor.

  Then, when the organs did not make it to the legitimate channels, it was covered up in hospital paperwork. Since hospital policy was to not tell surviving family members where their loved one’s organs went, those people would have no way of knowing what really happened.

  “Was Galvis involved?” I ask.

  Bradley shakes his head. “It doesn’t seem so. Cassel fed him all that information about the drug operation, claiming he had uncovered it himself but as a doctor didn’t think it was his place to get involved. Galvis was happy to convey the information, because if it got Lewinsky fired, then Galvis would get promoted into his job.”

  “So Philly was the ringleader?” Nate asks.

  “That much is clear,” Bradley says. “And get this. It appears that Joey Silva didn’t know about the planned attack on Paramus Park at all. He thought the reference to the ‘sixteenth’ meant that a couple of murders were to be committed, not that the world would blow up.”

  “Joey won’t walk, will he?” Jessie asks.

  Bradley shakes his head. “No chance. They’ve got him on way more than enough; they don’t need the Paramus Park attack.”

  “What about Vegas?” I ask. “Was Dominic Romano taking over the way Philly did here?”

  “Yes. He and Philly were in on it together to get rid of their bosses, and make this their big killing. Pardon the pun. Wiggins doesn’t think that Salvatore Tartaro knew about the casino attack, either. But it doesn’t matter now, because they have confirmation from one of the soldiers that Tartaro is history.”

  “So why did Shawn come up to Doug at the meeting with the scrapbook story?” Jessie asks.

  “Let me take a shot at that,” I say. “Dominic and Philly conspired to send him. He and Philly wanted their bosses out of the way, and they were hoping that we would nail Joey Silva on the Carlisle kidnapping. Then, they’d have killed Tony, so Philly would be in charge.

  “When that wasn’t working as fast as they needed it to, they used Lewinsky to implicate Joey, and Wiggins did their work for them by arresting Joey. I’m sure Philly had Shawn killed, with Dominic’s approval. He had done what he was supposed to by getting me involved, and they knew that his head showing up in Eastside Park would motivate us even more.”

  Bradley nods. “That pretty much sums it up.”

  “And at Bergen Hospital, Dr. Cassel was pushing out Lewinsky at the same time that Dominic and Philly were pushing out their bosses.”

  “Do we know who received all these organs?” Jessie asks, and Bradley says that we don’t, and probably never will.

  “But the ironic thing is that whoever got them, it probably saved their lives.”

  I nod. “Now we know what Joey meant by ‘giveth and taketh away.’”

  John Nichol
son was released from prison today.

  I’m glad about that, but very sorry about contributing to a process that wrongly took away three years of his life. I apologize for that when he calls me, even though he’s calling to thank me for getting him freed.

  “I had some wild fantasies about how I might someday get out,” he says. “You weren’t in any of them.”

  I laugh. “I’m not surprised.”

  “Yeah. But you were the one who came through.”

  I’m moving into Jessie’s house, at least part way. I’m keeping my apartment and half my clothes there, while bringing the other half to Jessie’s. I’m not sure if she told Bobo about the new arrangement yet. He still looks at me as if I’m lunch.

  “I think this will work out great,” she says. “Unless it doesn’t.”

  “Are you ready to set a date?” I ask.

  “No, but I’m almost ready to set a date to set a date.”

  “Well, now we’re getting somewhere.”

  ALSO BY DAVID ROSENFELT

  ANDY CARPENTER NOVELS

  Collared

  The Twelve Dogs of Christmas

  Outfoxed

  Who Let the Dog Out?

  Hounded

  Unleashed

  Leader of the Pack

  One Dog Night

  Dog Tags

  New Tricks

  Play Dead

  Dead Center

  Sudden Death

  Bury the Lead

  First Degree

  Open and Shut

  THRILLERS

  Blackout

  Without Warning

  Airtight

  Heart of a Killer

  On Borrowed Time

  Down to the Wire

  Don’t Tell a Soul

  NONFICTION

  Lessons from Tara: Life Advice from the World’s Most Brilliant Dog

  Dogtripping: 25 Rescues, 11 Volunteers, and 3 RVs on Our Canine

  Cross-Country Adventure

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  DAVID ROSENFELT is the Edgar and Shamus Award–nominated author of nine previous stand-alone novels and sixteen Andy Carpenter novels, most recently Collared. After years of living in California, he and his wife moved to Maine with the twenty-five golden retrievers that they’d rescued. Rosenfelt’s hilarious account of this cross-country move, Dogtripping, and his moving memoir of the dog that inspired his love affair with dogs, Lessons from Tara, are both published by St. Martin’s Press. You can sign up for email updates here.

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  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Notice

  His name was William Simmons, but no one he knew really cared about that.

  “I don’t really want to be here,” I say.

  “Doug, my name is Sean Connor. Can I talk to you about something?”

  Nate Alvarez is waiting for me across the street when I come out.

  Sean Connor is waiting for me when I arrive at the coffee shop.

  Nate says he wants to be there when I get to work.

  “Do you remember the Rita Carlisle case?”

  “What are you looking to nail me on now, the Kennedy assassination?”

  I’m not happy with myself, or the situation I’ve created.

  “You slammed a guy’s face into a car?” Nate asks when he walks in.

  I call Nate to the side, where no one else can hear us.

  “I don’t know who he was, but he wasn’t Sean Connor,” Jessie says the next morning.

  Nate and I aren’t glued to each other when we’re on a case.

  “We’ve got a DNA hit,” Nate says when I call in.

  “You’ve got to be kidding.”

  Salvatore Tartaro found out about Shawn’s death the way the public did, through the media.

  Connor Shawn’s death has effectively and completely reopened the investigation into Carlisle.

  “How many people have I shot, Nate?”

  Hector Davila has more seniority than anyone in the department.

  Joey Silva did not believe in an open-door policy.

  “This is very unexpected,” Daniel Lewinsky says.

  Jessie updated Nate on the department’s surveillance of Silva, and he has news when I return.

  Paramus Park exists in one of the densest shopping areas in the world.

  “He doesn’t want to be seen with me,” I say to Jessie.

  “You have to keep my name out of this,” Galvis says.

  “For now, let’s keep this within this room.”

  Tony Silva and Philly DeSimone would have occasional conversations about someone they considered dangerous.

  The call is routed to Nate and me, which by itself is surprising.

  It was left to Philly DeSimone to tell Joey his brother was dead.

  Talking to the family and friends of murder victims is the worst part of my job.

  “I told you when you called that he was in surgery.”

  The Mirage is the one that started it all.

  “Lewinsky said, ‘Tell Mr. Silva not to worry.’”

  Gail Marshall seems like a very nice lady.

  It’s possible that the Rita Carlisle connection to Vegas has just been made.

  The news of Tony Silva’s death hit Salvatore Tartaro hard.

  This is the first plane I’ve been on in ten years.

  The courier met Philly DeSimone at a highway rest stop on the New Jersey Turnpike.

  “Those buffets are for suckers,” Roberts says.

  It’s only been two days, but I’m missing Jessie.

  Nate is waiting for me at baggage claim.

  Everything was the same as it had been in New Jersey.

  I’m spending the day at Bergen Hospital.

  The message is waiting for us when we get in.

  “I could have twenty people on this and not get through it,” Jessie says.

  Galvis is ready to meet with me again.

  Lewinsky arrives at 3:00 P.M. with his attorney, Ronald Ranes.

  Philly DeSimone knew all about Lewinsky’s police interview within two hours of its conclusion.

  “Lewinsky talked to Joey Silva,” Nate says, hanging up the phone.

  The intercepted phone conversation gives us a lot.

  Dominic Romano still hadn’t told Salvatore Tartaro that he’d disobeyed his instructions.

  Roberts out in Vegas needs to be kept in the loop.

  It was the second full rehearsal.

  I’m working late in the office, although I use the word “working” loosely.

  “I don’t believe a word Lewinsky said on that call.”

  A decision on whether to arrest Joey Silva is above my pay grade.

  The larger and more prominent the target, the more careful everyone becomes.

  I hear the news on the radio.

  When I have some downtime on an investigation, I make lists.

  While my money may be on Galvis, I’m not betting a lot on it.

  There is one name that keeps bugging me: William Simmons.

  The SIMMONS INSURANCE AGENCY sign seems a strange homage to a forgotten murder victim.

  In order to test Nate’s theory, we’ll need the hospital records of the victims.

  Dr. Steven Cassel lied to me.

  The warrant for the surveillance of Cassel is gotten quickly.

  All we can do now is wait for the records.

  When you’re a cop, your office is always open.

  Jessie gets on the internet, which fortunately is also open twenty-four/seven.

  Sometimes you just know when you’re right. You can feel it in your gut.

  All we c
an do now is wait.

  I come up with a couple of ideas, both pretty weak.

  Ever since Joey Silva went to jail, Philly DeSimone has been heavily guarded.

  Bradley comes in to give us the news: the judge said no.

  There are twelve cops already at Paramus Park when we arrive.

  I call Roberts in Vegas as soon as I get out of the van.

  The judge gave the order to shut down cell service in Vegas.

  When it comes to public relations, Bradley is no dope.

  John Nicholson was released from prison today.

  Also by David Rosenfelt

  About the Author

  Copyright

  This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  FADE TO BLACK. Copyright © 2018 by Tara Productions, Inc. All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.

  www.stmartins.com

  www.minotaurbooks.com

  Cover photographs: woman © Andrey Korotich / Trevillion Images; city © wassiliy-architect/Shutterstock.com; man © Stephen Mulcahey/Trevillion

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Names: Rosenfelt, David, author.

  Title: Fade to black / David Rosenfelt.

  Description: First edition. | New York: Minotaur Books, 2018.

  Identifiers: LCCN 2017050901 | ISBN 9781250133120 (hardcover) | ISBN 9781250133137 (ebook)

  Subjects: LCSH: Police—New Jersey—Fiction. | Murder—Investigation—Fiction. | Amnesia—Fiction. | GSAFD: Suspense fiction. | Mystery fiction.

  Classification: LCC PS3618.O838 F33 2018 | DDC 813/.6—dc23

  LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2017050901

  e-ISBN 9781250133137

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