“No kidding. Want to take a stab at who set it all up?”
“Nevin Barlow, Esquire?”
“Maybe you are an ace detective,” Sumners said.
“Was it ever in doubt?”
“Not by me.”
“While it helps in making a case against Leo Mancini,” I said, “it's still not enough to go after Barlow.”
“No, it isn't,” Sumners agreed. “Nothing illegal about establishing complex corporate structures. Particularly when you specialize in corporate law. And you can bet any holdings Barlow may have will be even more difficult to untangle.”
“Good work, though,” I said. “Eventually we will get what we need. I want to get to the bottom of this,” I said.
“Me too, Drew. I'll see you when you get back to Boston.”
We ended our call. I stood holding my cell phone in my hand as my eyes remained fixed on the Jefferson Memorial. Tourists milled about snapping photographs, reading inscriptions, and taking in the beauty of the memorial and tidal basin.
I was confident we would solve this case and bring those responsible to justice. We were getting closer. That was good. But getting closer also meant the stakes were higher for those we were after. Like cornered animals, they could become unpredictable and more dangerous.
CHAPTER 27
Jessica wore a black cocktail dress and turned more than a few heads as we boarded the Potomac River dinner cruise. While I looked sharp in gray dress slacks, a crisp white dress shirt, and a navy blue blazer, I doubted anyone was looking at me. Not with Jess on my arm.
“Did you have to wear that tie?” Jessica asked me. I was wearing a New England Patriots tie. It was blue with the Pats logo. Some referred to it as “flying Elvis.” I had to admit, except for the silver face, the figure shared a slight resemblance to Elvis Presley.
“What is wrong with the tie?”
“Nothing is wrong with it, but. . .” Jessica trailed off as she searched for a polite way of telling me it was either juvenile or not fancy enough for an expensive dinner cruise. “Never mind,” she concluded. “You look very handsome.” She smiled at me and I melted.
“You're just happy I'm dressed up,” I said. Which was no small feat. I wasn't fond of dress shirts and jackets. Ties were even lower on my list. I made rare exceptions. Those rare exceptions almost always because of Jessica Casey.
“Yes,” she replied. “And thank you.”
“For you, my lady.”
The host showed us to our seat. Every table promised the most breathtaking views of Washington monuments. I didn't take any chances with our reservation. Since I shelled out two hundred bucks, I made certain we were sitting next to the window.
The boat was upscale with contemporary fixtures in gray and black. A large dance floor sat in the middle and a live band was warming up to entertain us throughout the cruise and provide after-dinner dance music. We started with cocktails as the boat moved away from the dock. We cruised past Fort McNair and National War College and rounded the tip of East Potomac Park on our way up the Potomac.
My tie had already received several comments. Some of them were “Go Pats,” from visiting New Englanders or transplants who had moved to the DC area. Others were less appreciative from Washington fans or those visiting from other parts of the country. New England versus everyone else, I thought.
“You enjoy getting a rise out of others, don't you?” Jessica asked.
I shrugged. She smiled. We toasted and drank our cocktails as we cruised past the Jefferson Memorial. Next up would be Arlington National Cemetery on our left, then the Lincoln Memorial on our right.
Our first course arrived. We both went with the Lobster Bisque. Our Entrees were Oven Baked Atlantic Salmon for Jessica and Braised Beef Short Rib for me. We would top it off with dessert, Chocolate Decadent Cake for Jessica and New York Style Cheesecake for moi.
The food was delicious, the band very enjoyable, and the views did not disappoint. Neither the monuments nor Jessica.
“The views are breathtaking,” Jessica commented as we passed the John F. Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts.
“Indeed,” I said as I looked at her. She turned her head toward me.
“I meant the Washington landmarks,” she said, “but thank you.”
“Those are nice, too,” I said.
After dinner, we danced cheek to cheek as the band played a set of '80s ballads. I managed to shuffle my feet just enough to call it slow dancing. We sat out the prior set of several Swing classics featuring the music of Benny Goodman and Glenn Miller. There were several couples who knew how to cut a rug to those classics. They were classics themselves.
“It has been quite a day,” Jess whispered into my ear as we danced.
“Yes,” I said. “Two goons assaulted me on Brattle Street, I have been confounded by Nevin Barlow's associations, and threatened by an FBI OPR agent. Now I get to spend the evening on a fabulous river cruise with the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on.”
Jessica kissed me on the check. My heart fluttered like a schoolboy.
“What do you make of the Vincent Gallaway development?” she asked me.
“When I spoke with Tyrell just before we left the hotel, he indicated Gallaway was an okay agent in Boston. Nothing remarkable. What was interesting is that Tyrell said he did not personally like Gallaway. Something about the guy rubbed him the wrong way. He got him transferred out of Boston and down to DC.”
“That speaks volumes right there,” Jessica said.
“Yeah. Tyrell has a very good instinct about people. I'm hoping your DC Pinnacle guys will find something to give us a little more to go on. Right now it is hard to see a legitimate connection between Barlow and Gallaway.”
As we returned to our table, my cell phone rang. “It's one of the Pinnacle guys,” I informed Jessica. I answered. I listened. After he filled me in on what they witnessed, I thanked him and hung up.
“So what did he say?” Jessica asked anxiously.
“You will not believe this,” I said to her. “Vincent Gallaway is having an affair with Elizabeth Barlow.”
CHAPTER 28
“Run that by me again?” Captain Robert Burke said to me as we sat in his office at the Massachusetts State Police barracks on Leverett Circle in Boston.
“Yeah, I want to make sure I heard you correctly,” Special Agent Mark Sumners said.
The three of us were a study in contrast. Burke had his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, his tie undone, and his shoes were scuffed. Sumners sat in his neatly pressed suit, a perfect Windsor knot in his tie, and shoes so polished you could see your reflection in them. I had on my favorite jeans, a Northeastern University tee shirt, and a broken-in pair of New Balance sneakers.
“Vincent Gallaway and Elizabeth Barlow are having an affair,” I said.
“We're sure about that?” Burke asked.
“They spent two hours together last night in a room at the Hays Adams Hotel in DC,” I said.
“Yeah, that sounds like an affair,” Sumners said.
“So Nevin has been cheating on his wife,” Burke said, “which is why she hired you to begin with. Now it turns out she is no better than he is when it comes to marital fidelity.”
“Maybe she got tired of all his cheating and decided two can play at that game,” Sumners said.
“No matter the reason,” I said, “what is most interesting is that Elizabeth Barlow is having the affair with Vincent Gallaway.”
“The Barlows make quite an interesting pair,” Burke said scratching his head.
"Let's examine this point by point," I said. "Nevin Barlow has been having affairs throughout their marriage, maybe longer. Elizabeth Barlow decides she's had enough and wants to gather evidence so she can file for divorce and take a chunk of his considerable fortune from Barlow, Hughes, and Waterford.”
“Following so far,” Burke said.
I took a can of Coke from Burke's office fridge and cracked it open. It had STEVEN on the side of
the can in the famous Coca Cola script. I didn't get the marketing behind these named cans.
“Help yourself,” Burke said.
I nodded and took a sip. Burke shook his head. Then I continued, “Somewhere along the way Nevin Barlow and Vincent Gallaway cross paths. When, where, and why we don't know.”
“A lot of unknowns,” Burke commented.
I ignored him and continued. “They become associates of some sort. The details are unclear at the moment.”
Burke made a face.
“Am I going too fast for you Captain Detective Burke,” I said. He gave me the one-finger salute.
“Sometime during this association, Elizabeth and Vincent meet and start having an affair," I continued.
“Okay, this Days of Our Lives crap may make for good tabloid fodder, but what does it have to do with our case?” Burke said.
“Nothing directly,” I said.
Burke rolled his eyes.
“But consider it for a second,” I continued. “What is the one thing we have yet to establish in this strange love triangle?”
Burke and Sumners thought for a moment. Then they both smiled. Sumners looked at Burke and waved his hand for Burke to take it.
"In all likelihood, Elizabeth Barlow knows what her husband and Gallaway are up to," Burke said.
“And it just might have something to do with Nevin Barlow's involvement with Leo Mancini,” I added.
“So you suspect Gallaway knows about Barlow's connection to the Mancini crime family?” Sumners said. He paused a beat. “It makes sense.”
“How far back does Barlow's association with the Mancini's go?” I asked.
Sumners thought for a moment. “He's been their attorney around twenty years,” he said.
“Gallaway served as an agent here in Boston until fifteen years ago,” I said. “How long was he here?”
“At least three years,” Sumners said.
Burke and Sumners looked at each other again. Then they looked back at me. We were silent for a while. Hamster wheels were turning in our heads. Burke got up from behind his desk and walked to his office window. He looked out on Leverett Circle.
Burke then asked, "We all assume Barlow's involvement in Mancini's money-laundering goes beyond setting up the business filings of the fronts, correct? Burke asked while staring out the window.
“Correct,” Sumners and I both answered.
Burke turned back toward us. “What if Gallaway found out about the money-laundering years ago?” he said.
“There's no record of an investigation,” Sumners said. “Not even an inquiry.”
“Exactly,” I said.
“Barlow struck a deal with Barlow,” Burke said.
“What's the wager that Vincent Gallaway has been taking bribes from Nevin Barlow to keep quiet?” I posited.
“I'd take that bet,” Burke said.
“I agree it sounds plausible,” Sumners said. “It would protect Barlow from Gallaway opening an investigation, but Gallaway hasn't been an agent in Boston for fifteen years. There was nothing preventing another investigation.”
“True,” I said. “But until now, there hasn't been one. Why?”
“The Mancini crime family has operated in Boston for decades,” Sumner said. “But the Bureau never had enough to go after them.”
“True of a lot of criminals,” Burke said. “We've got guys running lots of rackets. We know it. They know we know it.”
“But you can't pin anything concrete on them,” I said. “At least not enough to shut them down. Barlow working with the Mancinis was like hiding in plain sight.” I looked at Sumners. “What launched the current investigation into Leo Mancini?”
“Angelo retiring seemed like a good opportunity to examine their activity,” Sumners said.
“Word on the street is that Leo isn't up to the task,” Burke added. “It's a prime opportunity to take them down.”
“There you have it,” I said.
“Now there is some heat on the operation,” Burke said.
“And Elizabeth Barlow hires Drew to catch Nevin cheating, so she has leverage in filing for divorce,” Sumners added.
“The timing was probably not a coincidence,” Burke said.
“Elizabeth Barlow is shrewd and calculating,” I said. “She would want to maximize her position in divorcing her husband.”
"It would make sense to get out of the marriage before they take her husband down with Leo Mancini," Sumners said.
"What about Gallaway?" Burke asked. "She doesn't care if he goes down?
“Maybe not,” I said. “He could be just a fling. Or not as important to her as a boatload of cash.”
“It's also possible there is nothing directly linking Gallaway to Barlow and Mancini,” Sumners suggested. “Or he has a Plan B if things go sideways.”
“Any or all of the above,” I said.
I finished my Coke and placed the can in Burke's recycling bin next to his desk. Detective Lieutenant Isabella Sanchez rapped on the glass of Burke's office door. She was Burke's partner for most cases. She was currently taking lead on a drug-smuggling investigation. Burke waved her in.
“Hello, boys,” she said. Then she looked directly at Burke. “Our CI's info was good. We are scooping up the perp now.”
“Well done, Lieutenant,” Burke said. Sumners and I joined in congratulating her. “I'll look forward to reading your report,” Burke told her. A not-so-subtle hint for her to get it written asap.
“I'm on it,” she said. Turning to me she said, “Next time be sure and bring Dash. I haven't seen him in ages.”
“Always nice to see you, too,” I said.
She exited and closed the door behind her.
“One of the very best we have,” Burke said. He wouldn't get an argument from me. Sanchez was smart, tough, and as good a cop as they come. And I think my dog had a crush on her. He could get in line behind many of the State Troopers operating out of the Boston barracks.
"All of this makes sense," Burke said, "but it proves nothing." He always had been more of a glass half empty kind of guy. Maybe that made him more of a realist. But Burke was skilled at what he did and, despite our banter, I had immense respect for him.
“I think we might be able to leverage Elizabeth Barlow and Vincent Gallaway's affair to get her to tell us what she knows,” I said. “I don't think she will want to jeopardize the lifestyle she has grown accustomed to over the years.”
We all agreed the Elizabeth Barlow and Vincent Gallaway affair was the angle worth pursuing. It was also our only angle to pursue. Until it wasn't.
CHAPTER 29
Elizabeth Barlow relaxed poolside drinking lemonade through a long straw. She wore a fashionable pale blue one-piece bathing suit, white cover-up, and a gigantic sun hat. She pulled down her sunglasses and looked over them as we approached.
“Mrs. Barlow, I'm Special Agent Sumners with the Federal Bureau of Investigation.” Agent Sumners showed his credentials. “This is Detective Captain Burke of the Massachusetts State Police. And I believe you already know Mr. Patrick.”
Elizabeth Barlow let out a sigh. “How did you get on my property?” she asked.
“We're the FBI and State Police, ma'am,” Sumners said.
“Do you have a warrant or whatever it is you need to disturb my sunbathing?”
“We would just like to ask you a few questions,” Burke said.
“And you brought Mr. Patrick along, because?”
“Because he is assisting us with our investigation,” Sumners said.
“And I have a sparkling personality,” I said.
Elizabeth Barlow had pushed her sunglasses back up, but I'm pretty sure she rolled her eyes at me.
“Well, get on with it,” Elizabeth Barlow snapped.
“Do you know a Vincent Gallaway?” Sumners asked.
“Perhaps,” she answered, her voice emotionless.
“How might you know Mr. Gallaway?” Burke said.
Elizabeth Barlow's body
language suggested she was already bothered by the questioning.
“I believe he has met with my husband.”
“Do you know what they met about?” Sumners asked.
“Legal affairs, I assume. Nevin is an attorney.”
“Yeah, we're aware of what your husband does for a living,” Burke said. "Have your husband and Mr. Gallaway ever met with Leo Mancini together?"
Elizabeth Burke sat up and looked at Burke. “You mean the mobster?”
“Yeah, that's the guy,” Burke replied.
“I wouldn't know,” she said as she leaned back in her lounge chair. The pool water shimmered and reflected the late afternoon light. “As Mr. Patrick can attest,” she continued, “my husband and I are not exactly close. In fact, I have filed for divorce. We reside in separate living quarters."
“Are you sure you are telling us everything you know about Vincent Gallaway and the business he may conduct with your soon-to-be-ex-husband?" Sumners asked.
“What else is there to tell?” Elizabeth Barlow replied without a hint she was hiding something.
“Perhaps you would like to explain these,” I said. I pulled an envelope out of my back pocket and handed it to her.
She took the envelope and asked, “What is this?”
“Open it,” I said. Then I remembered my manners. “Please,” I added.
Elizabeth Barlow opened the flap and pulled out photos of her and Vincent Gallaway together at the Hays Adams Hotel.
“Where did you get these?” she demanded.
“Private detective who works for an agency in DC,” I said. “There are larger prints if there are any you like.”
Elizabeth Barlow threw the photographs onto the table next to her. “I have committed no crimes,” she said.
“Other than lying to a federal agent and a detective with the State Police,” Sumners said.
“You also lied to me,” I said. “It's not a crime, but it should be.”
“Those pictures prove very little,” she said in a huff.
“Except that you know Vincent Gallaway,” Burke said.
“Intimately,” I added.
“How dare you?” Elizabeth Barlow hissed at me.
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