1 Murder Takes Time

by Giacomo Giammatteo

  Frankie laid his gun on the desk, then set his badge beside it. “Here you go, Lieu. I’m done.” He headed for the door.

  “Donovan. Get your ass back here.”

  Frankie turned but kept his hand on the doorknob. “I’ve had it up to my ass with all of you. First the FBI and their goddamn wires, then all the bullshit you run. Now I’m a suspect on my own case. Fuck you.”

  “If you’ll sit for a minute, I can explain,” Morreau said.

  Frankie was hesitant, but he sat.

  “I’m sorry about the way I approached the DNA thing, but I had to see your reaction. You’d have done the same thing, and don’t deny it.”

  Frankie nodded, and Morreau went on. “Kate did tell me about finding your DNA, but she also told me that my DNA was found too—and I know I wasn’t on the scene. So unless you planted mine, or I planted yours, someone is fucking with us.”

  Frankie leaned forward. “And doing a damn good job of it.”

  Morreau held out his hand. “So, we good?”

  “Yeah, Lieu, we’re good. I guess.”

  “So tell me how this killer is getting our DNA to spread over crime scenes. And after that, tell me the real reason why you want off this case. You dumped that badge on my desk like it was hurting you.”

  The last bit took Frankie by surprise. He sat silent for a moment, thinking.

  You’re either a cop or a gangster. Make up your mind.

  “I don’t want off the case. I just want to get it solved. So if that’s all you got, I’m heading out.”

  “No, that’s not all,” Morreau said. “I didn’t want you on this to begin with, but the captain insisted on you as the lead. I’ve backed you even though I haven’t seen shit. And you’re walking around here like the goddamn Lone Ranger hoarding data on the case as if you’re the only one that matters.” He slammed his fist on the desk so hard the glass rattled. “That’s not the way things work around here, Detective. Not in my fucking house they don’t.” Morreau looked ready to go ten rounds with someone.

  Frankie had never seen him so pissed. He stood, but held the glare his lieutenant offered. “Don’t worry. I’ll get this solved.”

  “That’s what I’m talking about. You hear yourself? I’ll get it solved. Not we’ll get it solved.”

  “Sorry. We’ll get these damn cases solved.”

  “You’d better. Now get the fuck out of here. You spoiled my breakfast.”

  Frankie headed toward the door, but then stopped. How did the killer get Morreau’s DNA?

  “Lieu, you ever eat at any of the diners or donut shops close to where the victims lived or worked?”

  He stared at Frankie as if he were nuts. “How the hell do I know?”

  “Hang on a minute. I’ll be right back.”

  He returned shortly with three folders. Frankie and Morreau looked up each address for work and home. When they got to Nino Tortella’s work address, Morreau stopped. “There is a diner right by there,” he said. “I eat breakfast there maybe once or twice a month.”

  Frankie left with a smile on his face. “I’m back on it, Lieu,” he said, but then corrected himself. “We, Lieu, we’re back on it.”

  CHAPTER 41

  A BUSY YEAR

  Brooklyn—20 Months Ago

  Manny interrupted Tito’s reading, risking his foul humor. Four months had passed, and there was still no sign of Gina or his money. “Boss, I got an idea a little while back. Remember that source we got that gets us cop-type information sometimes?”

  Tito nodded.

  “I had Gina’s phone checked out. It was bought in Hershey, PA.”

  “She could have bought it there to throw us off.”

  Manny shrugged. “She could have, and I agree she did good with the Fed-Ex thing, so she’s smart, but maybe she didn’t know we could trace this. Just maybe, she thought a throwaway phone was invisible.” Manny waited while Tito absorbed this. “Hershey, PA, isn’t that big. Just a bunch of fuckin’ chocolate and a few piles of manure. It’s worth a shot.”

  Tito’s head was already nodding. “Put Bobbie and Little T on this. And tell those assholes we sent to Baltimore to go too. I want every mall, hair salon, and—” Tito stopped when he saw Manny shaking his head. “What?”

  “Churches,” Manny said. “Gina won’t miss Sunday mass. All you got to do is watch every Catholic church in the area, and you’ll get her.”

  Tito thought for a minute, then jumped up and hugged him. “You’re a genius.”

  “Yeah, no shit.”

  A FEW WEEKS LATER, while Tito Martelli ate his eggs, sipped on his cappuccino, and read the morning paper, Manny’s heavy footsteps clomped across the dining room floor on the way to the kitchen. “We just got a call from Chicky. He says it’s urgent.”

  “You got a different number? I don’t want to talk on that one.”

  “He’s got a clean phone.” Manny tossed him a throwaway cell phone, then turned on the kitchen fan and a few other appliances. Tito had the place swept constantly, but just in case, the extra noise would provide enough “reasonable doubt” when listening to a conversation.”

  Tito grabbed the phone, then dialed the number Manny gave him.

  “Yeah?”

  “Chicky?”

  “We just spotted Gina going into church. Pretty as a picture she was, all dressed in her Sunday best.”

  “Stay with her, Chicky. If you lose her…”

  “I don’t lose nobody.” There was a pause, then, “You want me to—”

  Tito almost jumped out of his chair. “No.” He paced the kitchen. “Find out where she lives and stay on her. I’ll be in touch.”

  Tito handed the phone back to Manny then walked to the table and sat. He scraped up the last of the eggs and slid them onto his toast, then sat back to finish his cappuccino. “Manny, get me Johnny Muck.”

  “You got it.”

  CHAPTER 42

  OATHS AND FRIENDS

  Brooklyn—20 Months Ago

  Tony pulled up to the union hall, late for his weekly meeting with Tito. Paulie sat in the seat next to him, playing with the radio. As Tony turned into the lot, Paulie pointed to a car just leaving. “Ain’t that Nicky?”

  Tony stared, suspicion burning through him. “Yeah, I think it is.”

  “It’s good to have him back with us.”

  “Yeah,” Tony said, and pulled up to the front. “Wait outside today, Paulie. Tito wants to go over some things with me.”

  “No problem, but hey, Tony, I been thinking, maybe you ought to tell Nicky about that money.”

  “The money I invested for him?”

  “It’s better he find out from you than someone else.”

  Tony stared off into the distance. “Tell you what, Paulie. Keep your mouth shut and let me decide how to do it.”

  Paulie shrugged. “Whatever you say.”

  Tony slammed the car door. This was the third time he’d seen Nicky with Tito in just a few months. What the hell was he doing here? Nicky told Tony he was a union rep, but union reps don’t go see Tito. Tony took the steps into the hall two at a time, then made his way to the kitchen without a word to anyone, just a nod now and then in response to greetings. He poured some coffee, walked to the lounge and took a seat next to Manny.

  Manny loved to watch the news and hated to be disturbed, so they sat in silence. Curiosity was eating at him, but Tony waited until the timing was right.

  “Manny, what was Nicky doing here?”

  He waved his hand without looking over. “Nothing.”

  “Nothing? He’s here in the middle of the day, and it’s nothing?”

  Manny picked up a half a sandwich and took a bite, damn near finishing it. Then he took a long swig of water from a bottle on the table. “What, you worried about your job?”

  “My job? What are you talking about?”

  “I’m talking about Tito’s got himself a new boy, that’s what. Better watch your ass, Tony.”

  “Watch my ass? Get
outta here. I taught Nicky everything he knows.”

  Manny laughed so hard he coughed. “Now I know you’re nuts. You really better watch your ass if you think that.” He slapped Tony on the back and stood. “I gotta go. I’ll tell Tito you’re here.”

  Tony got up and paced. Manny’s taunt stayed with him. That fuckin’ Nicky is trying to steal my job. Something had to be done about him anyway. Sooner or later, he’d find out about Angela.

  MANNY WORE A FROWN as he came out of his meeting with Tito. He motioned for Tony to go in. “Hope your news is good.”

  Tony walked in, already tense. “Hey, Tito.”

  “Tony, tell me we made a lot of money last week.”

  “What’s wrong, boss? Somebody giving you trouble?”

  “Nothing.”

  Tony went to pour a drink, patting Tito on the back as he passed. “Don’t tell me nothing’s wrong. I’ve known you too long for that.” He opened a bottle of brandy. “Want a drink?”

  “If you’re getting a drink, the news must be bad. Don’t make me wait.”

  “Guess I’ll have to be the one to brighten your day. We had a great week. Best one in two or three months. Paulie pulled through with a load of smokes; Jiggles did that airport deal; everybody came through.”

  “In that case, pour me a glass.”

  Tony poured him a drink and walked it over, sitting on the edge of a sofa across from Tito. “So what’s going on? Who’s giving my favorite boss all this trouble?”

  Tito shrugged. “Some broad.”

  “A broad? What, you get her pregnant?”

  He laughed. “God no. She’s…I got to take care of her, that’s all.”

  Tony thought for a minute, his brain churning. He was making a leap in his assumptions here, but why the hell else would Nicky be with Tito so often if he wasn’t a shooter? Nicky sure as shit wasn’t running any crews. If Tony was right, this would either make Nicky shine or show him up for the pussy he was. “Why not give it to Nicky?”

  “He told you what he does?” Tito’s brow furrowed.

  “We’re best friends,” Tony said, and shrugged.

  Tito finished the drink, set the glass on a coaster and shook his head. “I’m giving this to someone else.”

  “Suit yourself. All I’m saying is if you really want to test the guy, give him this one.”

  “I don’t need to test him.”

  “I don’t doubt that. Remember, I’m the one who brought him to you. Just—

  “Just what?”

  “Forget it. I doubt he’d do it anyway.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” Tito asked, leaning forward. “Nicky does whatever I tell him to.”

  “Hey, Tito, forget it. You’re better off getting someone else.”

  Tito stood and walked to the kitchen. “That’s what I said to begin with.”

  Tony said nothing. By the time Tito returned, the whole idea of Nicky was eating at him.

  “Why do you think he wouldn’t do this?”

  Tony had the remote in his hand. He jumped from channel to channel until he found a football game. “Forget about it. He probably would.”

  “I don’t want to forget about it.” Tito pulled on Tony’s shirt. “Tell me why you said that.”

  Tony sighed. “Not that I doubt what you say, but there’s no way Nicky would take out a broad.”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s not him, that’s all. Nicky Fusco wouldn’t kill a girl if Jesus Christ came down and told him to.” Tony finished the brandy, set the glass down then continued watching the game.

  Tito stared, assessing Tony the way only Tito could. “You worried?”

  “Why should I be worried? I just gave you the best report in months.”

  Tito stood and walked around. “You should be worried. I’m happy with Nicky. He makes me a lot of money and handles a lot of problems. But I can’t have a guy I can’t trust.” Tito wore his be-careful-what-you-say smile, the vicious one. “Of course you know that, don’t you? Which is why you brought this up.” Tito nodded to himself as if working out a problem in his head. “Does Nicky know you hate him so much?”

  When Tony didn’t answer, Tito paced some more, then lowered his head as he raised his eyebrows and stared at Tony. “You’re rolling big dice here. If I give this to Nicky, he’ll either be a hero or a corpse.”

  Tony shrugged, then got up to get more brandy. “I’m sure he’ll do fine.”

  CHAPTER 43

  HAPPY BIRTHDAY, TONY

  Brooklyn—20 Months Ago

  Frankie drove through heavy traffic on his way in. Not abnormal, but when done every day, a person prayed for those miraculous days when, for some unexplainable reason, there were few people on the road. Today was not one of them. Morreau said he had a new assignment for Frankie. He was both excited and worried, especially now that Nicky was back. Officially Nicky was a union rep for the plumbers, but Frankie didn’t buy that for a minute. He didn’t want to know what Nicky really did, but he suspected it wasn’t good, and his hunches were usually on target. The problem was that his intuition got skewed when dealing with friends.

  A half an hour later, he pulled into the parking lot. Ted greeted him with raised eyebrows and a shake of the head. The kind of look that said, “I wouldn’t go up there if I were you.” Frankie nodded. What the hell was happening now?

  He took the steps two at a time, as he always did, but his “good morning” to Carol was strained and unfriendly.

  Her eyes pointed to the ceiling as she whispered, “Top brass and Feds.”

  Fuck me. Despite the warning, he walked into Morreau’s office wearing a smile. “Morning, Lieutenant.” Frankie almost puked when he saw Harding sitting in a chair against the wall, a smug look on his face. Maddox sat next to him. Worse, though, was the sight of Captain Jamison. What is going on?

  Morreau stood. “Detective, I believe you know Agents Harding and Maddox, and of course, Captain Jamison.”

  Jamison was a wasp from way back, even had a pointed nose like a stinger to prove it. Frankie nodded. “Good to see you, Captain.”

  Harding stood, eager to take the lead. The asshole’s personality was as stiff and inflexible as his name implied. “Good to see you again, Detective.”

  Frankie knew it had irked Harding when he wouldn’t do what Harding wanted last time. Considering the captain was there, this looked to be revenge. “Agent Harding,” he said, as they shook hands.

  Captain Jamison didn’t bother to stand. “Donovan, we’ve set up a special task force in conjunction with the FBI. Agent Harding has asked for you to be in on it.”

  Harding wore a shit-eating grin. Even his eyes were laughing. “Welcome aboard, Detective Donovan.”

  Frankie turned to Morreau. “What’s going on?”

  Morreau looked upset, but he also looked defeated. “Officially, you’ll be assigned to homicide, but you’ll be working with Agent Harding and Agent Maddox.”

  The hair on the back of Frankie’s neck tingled. “Doing what?”

  “Organized Crime Unit, Detective. We’ll be putting bad guys away.”

  Frankie stood a little straighter, shook his head. “Don’t want it.”

  “Not your choice,” Morreau said. “It’s been decided. You have connections with key people in Tito Martelli’s organization, and we need Tito Martelli.”

  The room was closing in on Frankie and he didn’t like it. If he agreed to work with them he’d be betraying his friends; if he declined, a desk assignment waited. “No way, Lieu.”

  Jamison shot up from his seat. “Donovan.” He pulled out a folder. “Agent Harding has pictures of you meeting with men from Tito Martelli’s organization several times during the past six months. If you aren’t willing to help, I’ll be forced to wonder about your loyalty.”

  “I can’t do what you’re asking, Captain.”

  Jamison got real close to him. “Do what you’re told, or go on suspension.”

  Suspension! The thre
at rang in his ears, but in the back of his mind all he heard were words from long ago—a bunch of kids holding their hands together and yelling friendship and honor. “Suspend me,” Frankie said, and started for the door.

  “Walk out that door, and your career is over,” Jamison said. “I’ll see to it.”

  Frankie stopped. Stared at the door. He thought for a minute, then turned back, a feeling in his gut like a knife twisting. “What do I have to do?” he asked as he turned to face them.

  TWO WEEKS LATER, AFTER indoctrination into the absolutely boring world of the FBI and their bullshit procedures, Frankie sat in a room being wired up. They wanted him to go to lunch with Tony and Paulie and tape them.

  “You got it, Detective?” Harding asked. “Any reason you suspect they’re onto you, give the signal.”

  Frankie scoffed. “Your signal is ridiculous. If I’m having lunch with Tony and Paulie and spit out a sentence that contains ‘yellow scarf’ they’ll shoot me for the hell of it.”

  Harding didn’t seem like he’d mind. “You have a better idea?”

  “How about I say, ‘She’s got a nice ass.’”

  “You are a crude—”

  Frankie left the office laughing. “See you boys later.”

  FRANKIE DIDN’T WANT TO get Tony or Suit in trouble, even though they were mobsters.

  And friends, that damn oath reminded him. For twenty-five years it had haunted him. He thought about the rules he’d be breaking as a cop, the threat from his captain, about what could happen to him if he didn’t follow orders.

  I’m not going to lose my job because of them. He rode along for a few miles, reinforcing his decision. No way would he risk his job. He worked too hard to get there. The closer he got to Cataldi’s, the more the decision weighed on him.

  He made two stops on the way to Cataldi’s and walked in carrying a shopping bag. He was five minutes late, which would bother Nicky, but no one else.