“Fuck you! It’s your job. I have a family. I got—”
“Yeah, guess what, asshole. She was pregnant. She won’t ever have a family.”
The line went dead. I wanted to call him back. Scream. Go kick his fucking ass…but he was right. This one was on me. I shouldn’t have left it to them.
You should have told me what you wanted me to do, God. Now, I’m making the decisions.
I drove zombielike until I hit the other side of the bridge, took the first exit, and turned around.
That motherfucker shouldn’t have killed her on my watch.
CHAPTER 59
An Ultimatum
Stewart walked casually from the scene. He had done his good citizen duty and reported the fire. That he set it made little difference. He lived by a different set of rules. In his world, one right canceled two wrongs. What preceded each made no difference. Bruce wore a wide smile. He was only moments away from complete freedom. Ditch the gun, change clothes and get rid of them, and he was clear. Three blocks away the first leg of that journey was accomplished when he put the gun in a large trash can, tucked inside a paper bag with God knows what else inside. Either someone would get the gun or they wouldn’t. It didn’t matter to him.
Next he walked to his car and drove to his house in Red Hook. As he went down the street he noticed an SUV with two men inside. Bruce slowed down. The car was running, windows rolled up.
And they’re just sitting there. They might as well have their sirens on.
No question they were cops. The question was what were they doing there? What could they want? They couldn’t have had anything on him from Cantaloupe Girl, and he couldn’t imagine they had gotten any new evidence from the other scenes.
So why are they here?
He circled the block, slowing after he got out of their sight. It didn’t matter why they were there. The fact was, they were here. And he had blood on his clothes. He couldn’t afford to be taken in. There was only one thing to do, go to the other house. He turned right at the next street, then took the first left. Brooklyn Heights was only a few minutes away. Not a high price to pay for freedom.
***
Fabrizio sat low in the seat of his car, two blocks from Stewart’s house. The idiot police on stakeout were busy playing cards, or something else, when Stewart drove by. They didn’t even see him. But Fabrizio did, and, more importantly, he noticed Stewart saw them. Fabrizio had a good idea where Stewart would be going, so he turned and headed toward the Brooklyn Heights house, ahead of Stewart. If he guessed wrong, he’d pay the price, but he seldom guessed wrong. In all of his time in America, only Fusco had ever outwitted him. And Fusco would soon pay the price for that. The game was not over. Not yet.
***
With caution infusing his body, Bruce approached his Brooklyn Heights house at a crawl. He wasn’t about to actually drive past it—not yet—but he figured he could spot any cops from a few blocks. They wouldn’t get close. From half a block away he spotted the sexy black cop, the one he dreamed of doing while she was tied down. He pulled to the curb, a fortunate space waiting for him, and watched as she joined her partner. Bruce hated that old man; in fact, he made up his mind right then he would kill him if he had the chance.
He sank very low in the seat. Sniffed himself. He probably had Cantaloupe Girl’s juices on him, maybe in his hair, or in his mouth. And he knew there were traces of blood. The gun was gone, but…he had to get rid of her DNA. Okay, that was easy enough. He could check into a hotel and shower several times, really scrub.
Yes, that’s what I’ll do.
He reached to turn the ignition, but stopped.
But what if they go inside the other house? I should have gotten rid of those pictures long ago.
Besides, he had to get his passport and his money. He could go to France. Isn’t that where all sophisticated criminals went? At least ones like himself with dual citizenship.
So what to do? Clean up first.
That was the priority. He had to clean up. Bruce waited for the detectives to get settled in, then he started his car and headed for the hotel down the road. It was dark now, so they wouldn’t see him, and it wouldn’t take him long to get back to a virgin state, free of all DNA except his own. After that, all he needed to worry about was Red Hook. He laughed, and, as he drove to the hotel, he wondered if the detectives went home at night and did crosswords, or did they practice their ABCs.
Instead of a hotel, he went to the art gallery to scrub. He used the private bathroom next to his office to shower, then he changed clothes and wrapped his old ones in a plastic bag, which he disposed of a few blocks away in a dumpster. Afterward, he bought a cup of coffee from a bodega and returned to keep an eye on the detectives.
He parked three blocks from the house in Brooklyn Heights and found a place to rest, next to a stoop. He could wait, at least a little while. Come morning though, he was going in, no matter what he had to do. He was getting comfortable that things would work when he saw the detectives heading toward him. He pulled out the knife, held it by his side. He never did like that old man. The bitch either.
***
Mazzetti looked at his watch. “It’s damn near two o’clock, Miller. I say we pick it up in the morning.”
“I’m with you. All we’ve seen are a few stragglers shuffling back and forth. Not even a hint of Stewart.”
“Let me call Saperstein first.”
“You think he’s still there?”
“He better be. I blackmailed him.”
Sherri gave a half a chuckle, lacking the energy for a full laugh. “What do you have on him?”
“Pictures of him with small children.”
“Don’t even joke about shit like that. It makes me sick.”
“Me, too. Which makes joking about it one of the only things to do. That, or killing the perverts. And I leave stuff like that to Donovan.”
“We got anyone to cover for us?
“This is unauthorized, remember? If Morreau finds out we’re doing this…”
“Call to see if Stewart ever checked in at Red Hook.”
Lou dialed the phone and waited a long time.
“Saperstein.”
“Where the fuck are you?”
“I’m in bed. It’s late.”
“I thought you were covering the house.”
“I stayed till midnight. Malone said he would stay till two.”
“Fuck you,” Lou said, and hung up. He turned to Sherri. “They’re long gone. Saperstein left two hours ago. Malone said he would stay until two, but I’d bet he left ten minutes after Saperstein.”
“Shit.”
Lou lit a smoke, staring out the window. “See that homeless guy pushing the grocery cart?”
“I see him.”
“He’s been here for a couple of hours now, walking back and forth, rummaging through garbage, picking up trash.”
Sherri laughed. “That’s what homeless people do, Mazzetti. You need to get out more.”
Lou opened the door. “I’m gonna check on him.”
Sherri got out with him. “Pretty soon it won’t be worth going to sleep.”
Lou headed toward the homeless guy. “Don’t worry, Miller, we’ll get an early start.”
“I’ll pick you up at six,” Sherri said.
“Not that early.”
Sherri glanced to the side and noticed a man crouched against the wall next to a dumpster. She nudged Lou, then, to the guy, said, “Hey you. What are you doing there?”
The man didn’t answer. Didn’t move.
“Is he alive?” Mazzetti asked.
Sherri moved to check on him. The man jumped up, grabbed her with one hand and pressed a knife to her throat with the other. He grabbed her gun and pointed it at Lou.
Lou froze. “Hold on, Stewart. You don’t want to do anything stupid.”
“Handcuff her.”
“What?”
“Handcuff her,” Stewart said.
“Listen, Stewart—”
“When you’re done with her, clamp one on yourself.”
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“I’m handcuffing both of you, then putting you in the dumpster. I hope they find you before the truck picks it up.”
Lou didn’t believe for a minute that Stewart would let them go, but he had little choice. At least until he could get a clean shot. And he didn’t know how he’d manage that. “Stewart, listen—”
“Old man, if you say one more fucking word, I will slit her throat like I did the last one.”
“You don’t want to do this,” Sherri said. Her body shook, and her voice revealed her fear. She had to be thinking of last year when she got shot. Being with Mazzetti and Donovan had not been good for Sherri.
“Murder is one thing,” Sherri said, “Killing a cop will get you the needle.”
Stewart laughed. He pressed the knife into her neck, drawing blood. All the while he kept a firm grip on the gun pointed at Lou. “I’m not going to kill you, but when I get you cuffed, I will fuck you. If you’re good, I’ll do it twice.”
CHAPTER 60
Old Habits Die Hard
I watched Stewart from my SUV. A homeless man walked up my side of the street, pushing a cart. On the opposite side, Stewart had Lou and Miller held captive. He had a knife on Miller and a gun pointed at Mazzetti. Not a good situation. Not impossible, but not good. I opened the car door very slowly, thanking God I remembered to disable the interior light. I crept onto the sidewalk, crouching so I could stay low enough to not be seen. Halfway down the block my legs started cramping and I stopped to stretch. I couldn’t afford the time, but I couldn’t afford a mistake either.
I crept forward to the next car, then the one after, inching toward Mazzetti and Miller until I could get in a position to do…something. The homeless guy bothered me. He kept rumbling along, making noise. I worried that Stewart might panic and decide to do them in. Two cars later, my fears took fruition. I was only twenty feet away when I heard Stewart.
“Detective, I think I’ve decided to just kill you and get it over with. And your partner goes when I’m done with her. I kind of liked the last black I had.”
Mazzetti tensed, started to make a move.
Don’t do it, Mazzetti.
Stewart moved forward, pushing Sherri ahead of him. “Don’t get brave, Detective. You’re not young enough or quick enough to do anything before I kill her.”
I flexed my muscles to prevent any creaking of bones, got on my knees and crawled to the front of the car. When I figured I’d moved close enough, I stood. I stepped silently toward the detectives, focusing on Stewart. I had a gun in my front waistband and one in the back. And the derringer in my cap.
Stewart had a gun pointed at Lou and a knife at Sherri’s throat. I wasn’t a prophet, but I knew someone would die tonight.
He tensed as I approached, his hand shaking.
“Who the fuck are you?”
“Nobody.”
“Nobody? What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“Put the gun down and we can talk.”
“Are you a cop? If I’m going to kill two cops I might as well kill three.”
I smiled at him. I found out long ago that a smile can disarm a man quicker than a threat.
He seemed astonished. His brow wrinkled and his eyes went wide. “What the hell are you smiling about? I said I’m going to kill you.”
“You’re not killing anyone.”
Miller trembled. Lou stayed calm. That was good. I needed him calm. Stewart shook as if he was going to explode. Exactly what I wanted. I watched his eyes, and his hands. I saw his eyes shift from Lou to me. It was going down now.
He moved the gun to fire at me. The instant he shifted off Lou, I drew a gun and fired. The first shot whizzed past Miller’s cheek and hit him in the right eye. Sherri screamed and broke away just as the second shot entered his skull. Sherri lay on the ground, curled into a ball. She was reaching for her backup gun. I stepped on her arm.
“Hold up. I’m a friend.”
Mazzetti knelt to check on Stewart while I helped Miller up.
“He’s dead,” I said.
Lou stood. “Deader than duck shit.”
I looked at him. Almost laughed. “I don’t think I’ve heard that expression before.”
“Old goofy Mazzetti expression.”
Miller hadn’t stopped shaking, but she gathered enough composure to talk. “You must be Fusco.”
I wiped my prints from the gun and handed it to Lou. “This is Bugs’ gun.”
Mazzetti stared. “Great. How am I going to explain Stewart getting shot with Frankie’s gun? The lieutenant knows the killer had it.”
“Tell him you struggled with the guy, took the gun, but he attacked with a knife and you shot him.”
“Just like that?” Lou said.
“Just like that,” I said.
“Forensics won’t support that argument. Distance, range, all of that matters.”
“You’ll figure it out, Mazzetti.”
“Maybe we will.” Lou extended his hand. “I owe you one, Fusco.”
I shook his hand. “I don’t think you want to owe me one, Detective, but I appreciate the thought.”
Miller stood with her head lowered, staring at the ground. “You okay?” I asked.
She glared at me. The kind of look when someone is grateful, but hates having to be. “Don’t think I owe you anything.”
“I never said you did.”
“Yeah, well, you’re right. I don’t.”
I looked around. “Mazzetti, I’d love to stay and discuss the problems of the universe, or the problems with your partner, but I have to go.”
“We’ve got to stay here until reinforcements come. I’ll tell Frankie you said hi.”
“Do that. I’d appreciate it.”
***
Fabrizio went to Nicky’s car and left his cart beside a pickup truck at the curb. He removed the overcoat and wool gloves and placed them in the basket, and then he moved silently and hid. Fusco had given the detective his gun, but he might have another. It didn’t matter. After tonight, he wouldn’t need it.
CHAPTER 61
Blackmail Works Both Ways
Frankie reached for the phone when it rang. Stretching hurt his side more than coughing. He finally nabbed it with the tip of his finger and dragged it toward him. He flipped it open. “Donovan.”
“Bugs. Christ’s sake, how are you?”
Frankie lit up. “Paulie? I can’t believe it’s you.”
“What’s up? You said Nicky was in trouble.”
“It’s a long story, but the bottom line is Nicky is in town, and Dominic Mangini isn’t happy. I think he’s got his top man after him.”
“Fuck me.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Frankie asked.
“It means I’ve seen the guy work. I know Nicky’s good, but if this is Fabrizio, Nicky could be in trouble.”
“Shit. I’m hoping you have something I could use to blackmail Mangini.”
“Use? You mean besides a cannon?”
Frankie stayed silent.
After a moment, Paulie said, “The only guy I know who might be able to help you is Manny. He grew up with Dominic.”
“You got anything I can use with Manny?”
“Shit, Bugs, I don’t know. Maybe.”
Frankie boiled inside. “This is Nicky, goddamnit. If you have something, give it up.”
“I’ll make a call,” Paulie said. “Sit tight.”
Five minutes later, Frankie’s phone rang. It was Manny.
“I hear you got troubles, Bugs.”
“Thanks for calling, Manny, and yeah, you know what kind of troubles I have.”
“I’m only gonna help you because I like you, and because I owe Nicky a favor.”
“I don’t care why, just tell me what I need.”
“Okay, here’s what I got…”
Manny filled Frankie in on a fe
w details from Dominic’s past. Enough, Manny said, to earn a favor.
“You sure about this?”
“If you tell anybody where you got it, I’m dead. You hear me, Bugs?. Dead. Not hurt. Not maimed. Dead.”
“I got it. Don’t worry.”
“You shouldn’t fuck with Mangini. He’s not right. He likes hurting people.”
“I don’t believe that. I think he’s got a lot of heart.”
Frankie thought back to the lunch he had with Dominic, to the look in his eyes when he talked about giving up everything he ever loved. Frankie counted on his judgment being right on this one. Nicky’s life depended on it.
“Thanks for the help, Manny. This goes to the grave with me.”
“Yeah, okay. Good luck.”
Frankie dialed the number for Mangini. He answered right away.
“Pronto.”
“Mr. Mangini, I need to talk.”
“Talk.”
“You once said you owed me one. Where I come from owing a favor means it goes without saying it gets paid back.” Frankie waited a few seconds. “No matter what it is.”
“We have already had this discussion, Detective.”
“We’re having it again.”
“If I do this for you,” Dominic said, “You will owe me a favor.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Then we have nothing to discuss.” A pause. “I’m surprised. Your friend risked everything for you.”
“That’s because he’s an honorable man. Something you wouldn’t know about. Back where I come from we honor promises.”
“Ask something else.”
Frankie had hoped to not have to use Manny’s information. Now he had no choice. “I know about Connie’s father.”
A long silence followed. Long enough to let Frankie know he hit a sore spot.
“He was a drug user. Who cares?”
“Let me put it differently, Mr. Mangini. I know who killed Tommy Nunzio. And I know what he left behind.”
More silence followed. Frankie thought he heard whispered curses in Italian.
“I only owe you one favor. Are you sure this is what you want?”
“Call your dogs off, Mangini.”
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