Follow the Money (Detective Kate Rosetti Mystery Book 3)

by Gina LaManna

  “You can decide that later,” Russo said. “For now, just do what you need to do so we can get out of here.”

  “So, you’re the guy who’s dating my daughter.” The voice came from the doorway. “I thought you smelled like a fed.”

  Both Russo and I faced my father who leaned against the wooden frame, a smile on his face.

  “It’s nice to meet you,” my dad said, extending a hand to Russo. “I’m Angelo. Kate’s dad.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Detective Rosetti.” Russo shook his hand. “It seems as if your nose is as perceptive as ever. I’m Jack Russo.”

  “Agent Russo,” I corrected. “He is a fed. He’s also my date. Which is none of your business.”

  “Of course not,” my father said. “I don’t expect to come into your life after all these years and comment on your boyfriend. Though I can say I never thought I’d see a Rosetti with a suit.”

  “Sit down, please,” I said. “We’d like to ask you a few questions.”

  “I’ve got nothing to say,” my father said, but he sat anyway. “I see you didn’t take my advice not to come here.”

  “I didn’t have a choice,” I said. “It was the first lead we had on Ricci and your dealer in there.”

  “Joe and Angel have nothing to do with Peg Leg’s murder,” my father insisted. “I already told you that.”

  “Right. But you also haven’t given me an alibi for yourself, nor did you alibi anyone else. I can’t just take your word for it.”

  My father shrugged, as if that were my problem.

  “Cox,” I said. “Tell me more about him.”

  My father looked up, surprised. “You’re actually looking into him?”

  “I can’t comment on that.”

  My father seemed pleased.

  “Why do you look so happy?” I asked. “What about Cox has you thinking he might be involved?”

  “I’m just happy because my daughter’s taking my advice.” My father wore a cheery grin. “I’ve wanted to be involved in your life for years, but it was never my place. It’s nice to feel wanted.”

  “Most parents don’t give their children insider advice for how to deal with dirty cops and murder cases. We’re not the Brady Bunch just yet.”

  My father’s smile didn’t budge, though he continued in a more serious tone. “Cox worked in narcotics for a few years. He was suspected of taking in some drug money, but since they could never pin anything on him, they quietly shifted him over to finish out his career as a detective. He retired after the Sacchetti case like I told you.”

  “Right.”

  “I still think that case was over a drug bust,” my father said. “I think Sacchetti was going to rat out Cox to the department. But Sacchetti ate it before anything could be set.”

  “Why is his name still coming up?”

  My father shrugged. “Cox got out of the force, but his pension isn’t enough to pay for the Florida condo where he goes, or the boat he keeps docked on Lake Minnetonka. He was used to the cushy drug money.”

  “You think he might still have his hands in the pie?”

  “All I’m going to say is that if I wanted to look deeper into Cox, I might start with some of his old cases—especially his CIs. I doubt he got new connections after he retired.”

  “There’s no statute of limitations on murder,” I said. “If he was responsible for the Sacchetti murder, we could still bring it on him. You never wanted to look into him yourself?”

  “I’m a dirty cop,” my father said, raising his hands. “Who’s gonna believe me? Plus, karma will catch up to him. I’ll let her do her job.”

  “Any particular CIs you can think of?”

  “Sacchetti became pals with this guy, Ray Hammond, shortly before his death,” my dad said. “I thought it was strange. Ray’s a known entity in the narcotics world.”

  “And you think that Sacchetti was buddying up to him... undercover?” I suggested. “Trying to befriend him in order to get information to share with his handler?”

  My father nodded. “I don’t have any proof. Both Ray and Cox can cover their tracks better than most.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “One last question for you.”

  “Nope.” My father stood, met my gaze. “I’m still not giving you an alibi.”

  I gave a frustrated exhalation.

  “Well, it was nice to see you, Kate. Nice to meet you, fed,” my dad said, turning to Russo. “I feel like it’s expected I give you a pep talk. The good old, if you hurt her, I’ll kill you line.”

  “Dad,” I said. “That’s really not necessary.”

  “Oh, I know.” He grinned, then gave Russo a friendly elbow to the arm. “If you hurt her, she’ll take you down herself.”

  With a wink, my father turned and let himself back into the main restaurant.

  I stood alone with Russo, turned apologetically toward him. “I’m really sorry about that.”

  “No need to apologize.” Russo looked uncomfortable also. “He seems nice enough.”

  “That’s not how meeting the parents should go.”

  “No,” Russo said. “But I don’t think we’ve ever done things how they should go. And I’m fine with that.”

  I reached for his hand and gave it a squeeze. “Let me wrap up here. Then, maybe, you can take me home.”

  He squeezed my hand back. “Whatever you want, detective.”

  I started through the doorway, stopping only when Russo called after me.

  “What your dad said...” He raised an arm, scratched at his head. “The killing me if I hurt you part, that was a joke, right?”

  It was my turn to grin. “You never know with us Rosettis, do you?”

  Chapter 14

  “So, you’re Rosetti’s daughter.” Joe Ricci sat back on the bench, rested his head against the wall. “I’ve heard about you.”

  “Only good things, I hope.” I stood before Joe Ricci. Russo hovered near the exit and stared down at his feet, listening carefully, but trying not to show it. “Where were you last night?”

  Joe gave a wide grin. “I wouldn’t have done Peg Leg. He was a friend of mine. Sometimes, he even came to this very game. Then again, I’m sure your dad told you all about that.”

  “My father and I don’t have a relationship,” I said. “He doesn’t tell me anything.”

  “I suppose you expect me to believe that you just stumbled into the game tonight?”

  “He didn’t give us any information about the game,” I said. “I told you, I don’t have a relationship with my father. He wouldn’t snitch on his friends. I should know because I tried to convince him otherwise.”

  Joe raised his eyebrows. “Mighty convenient. It’s all I’m saying.”

  “There are others out there who know about you,” I said. “And your sneaky little online forum? Not so sneaky when you’ve got friends like mine. How do you think we knew none of you would be armed?”

  “Armed? Come on now, I’m a peace-loving guy.” Joe’s squashed nose flattened further as his lips spread into a leer. “What weapons?”

  I crossed my arms. “Do me a favor. Leave my dad out of this.”

  “For not having a relationship, you’re certainly defensive of your old man.”

  “I don’t care about him; I care about justice. He didn’t expose the game, so he shouldn’t be punished for it.”

  “You sound cold, but we all know you’re warm inside,” Ricci said. “You care about your old man. If it were anyone else, you think you’d care about what I think?”

  “I just care about—”

  “Justice, yeah. Well, the way I see it, your father made his choice.”

  “He’s not the snitch,” I said. “We found—”

  I stopped abruptly. The back of my neck warmed, and I could feel Russo’s eyes on me. I exhaled, stepped into the doorway.

  “Watch him,” I muttered to Russo. “I need some air.”

  I made my way outside under the starlight. The chilly air
sent a rush over my skin. I hadn’t bothered to wear a jacket with my dress, so I shivered and ran my hands over my arms.

  Joe Ricci was right. I was getting riled up. I was arguing with a suspect. Losing my cool on the job wasn’t acceptable. I needed to regain control, to separate the personal from the professional—whatever the cost to my father. It wouldn’t be fair to Gayle to throw her under the bus in order to save my father’s reputation.

  I blew out a breath, returned inside. “Where were you last night?”

  “Done pleading for your father’s reputation?” Ricci sneered. “You know, if word gets out that he’s a snitch, it won’t end well for him.”

  “Last night,” I said. “Where were you?”

  “I told the guy in there that I spent the night at Angel’s. We got a pizza, laid around. We went out to Ladies of Luxury around two.”

  “Angel said you were meeting someone there. Who?”

  “None of our business,” he said. “What time was Peg Leg killed?”

  I stonewalled him.

  “It’s gotta be earlier than two a.m.,” Ricci said. “Which means my alibi is solid. I’m assuming you have access to the security tapes at Angel’s building. They’ll show me there. That also means I don’t owe you an explanation for my whereabouts after the window of time in which Peg Leg died. I couldn’t have made it to Bellini’s and back without getting caught on tape. It wasn’t me, just like I’ve been telling you.”

  I glanced over at Russo. He nodded.

  “Stop wasting our time,” Ricci said. “We both know that I’ve got a solid alibi. Either I did the murder, or I didn’t. It’s obvious I didn’t, so let me go.”

  “What do you know about Cox?”

  “Who?”

  “Kevin Cox,” I said. “A retired detective.”

  Ricci shrugged. “Heard the name. But I’ve heard a lot of names.”

  “He worked a case in which you were questioned years ago. Does the name Jonny Sacchetti mean anything to you?”

  “Oh, Jonny.” Ricci put his head in his hand, shook it mournfully. “Another flipper. Shame.”

  “You knew he was working as a CI?”

  “It was obvious he’d switched to an informant. That’s why I stopped working with him. But I didn’t have him killed. Nor did I kill him.”

  “Why’d your name come up in that investigation?”

  “I was at the barbeque when he was shot. Your dad was there, too. Then again, I’m sure he told you all about it.”

  I ignored the barbed comment. “Did you see anything worth mentioning that afternoon?”

  “It was a long time ago. I don’t have that great of a memory.”

  I sighed. There was no way I was getting anything else out of Ricci for the night. He was right; we were both wasting our time. If his alibi was good, it meant he wasn’t responsible for Tony Colombo’s death. The rest, the cold cases, had waited this long—they could wait a few more days.

  “You’re free to go,” I said. “But don’t think about leaving town. I might need to get ahold of you again.”

  “Just ask your dad,” Ricci said. “I’m sure he’d be happy to put us in touch.”

  I leaned forward, stuck my face close to his ugly mug. Lowered my voice. “I know all about guys like you, Ricci. You sneak by because you never tackle any of the big projects. You don’t put your name on anything. You squeak through life doing just fine—never great, but certainly not struggling.”

  “Is that right?”

  “People like you slip through the cracks all too much. But if I find out you’ve blacklisted my father for something he didn’t do...” I gave a shake of my head. “I’ll find something on you, Ricci. If not Peg Leg or Sacchetti, there’ll be something else. I promise.”

  Ricci stood, hiking up his pants. He gave a slow smile. “You’re a pretty thing. I can see why you’ve got daddy wrapped around your finger. Tough cookie.”

  “Ricci...” I warned.

  Russo stepped up, his arm brushing against mine. The sheer presence of him calmed me.

  “Let it go,” Russo murmured, only for my ears.

  Ricci scanned the distance between us, a knowing look in his eyes. Then he turned and re-entered the restaurant without a backward glance.

  “Your dad will be fine.” Russo turned me to face him. His hands came up on my shoulders. “He can handle his own. Ricci was just messing with you. He was trying to get into your head. That’s what people like him do.”

  “And he was successful,” I snarled. “I let him get to me. What was I thinking, taking this case on? I’m clearly not acting like myself.”

  “You need to cool down and get a good night’s sleep. Let me take you home.”

  “We’ve got Mo in there, Stinky, one or two others.”

  “Let Jones handle them. That was the initial plan, anyway.” Russo stepped past me. “I’ll let them know we’re taking off.”

  I sagged onto the bench and waited for Russo to return. For once, it was nice to feel as if someone else were calling the shots. To feel like someone was watching my back and had my best interests at heart. When Russo stepped into the lobby, I smiled up at him, then reached for his hand.

  “I’d like to stay with you tonight.”

  Russo’s face brightened, his smile tender. “I appreciate that, but I’d rather we wait.”

  “Wait for what?”

  Russo brushed a piece of hair out of my face. “It’s been a long night. You’re tired. You’re probably overwhelmed, confused, I don’t know. The case is complex from what I’ve overheard. Your best suspect just alibied out. You’re concerned about your father. There’s a lot on your mind, and I don’t want to add to your plate.”

  “I’d rather forget about it all for a while.”

  “I don’t want to be the reason you forget.” Russo leaned in. “I want to be your choice, something you remember. Tomorrow, okay? We don’t need to rush.”

  Together, Russo and I walked hand in hand across the parking lot to the car. My dress had shifted slightly, my feet had darkened with dirt from my initial jog to the restaurant. I’d never pictured myself hand in hand with a federal agent. But somehow, it felt just right.

  RUSSO DROPPED ME AT my house. He lingered outside with a kiss, but when the tension between us burned and strained, begging for release, he stepped back. Breathless, we watched one another.

  His thumb rose, stroked over my forehead. “Tomorrow,” he promised. “If you still think it’s a good idea.”

  I reached for my keys and fumbled with the door, letting myself inside and locking it behind me before I could do something truly embarrassing. Like beg for him to take me back to his hotel, or request that he stay at my place. Russo was right; he had his head on straight. I was a mess.

  Despite the late hour, I heard movement upstairs once I’d closed the door behind me. I hesitated, tensing in the entryway before creeping toward the staircase on high alert. It was a little early for Jane to be home.

  Then I heard the shower flip on, and the sound of loud, completely offbeat singing. I exhaled a sigh of relief, made my way upstairs and helped myself to my own shower. By the time I slid into a set of flannel shorts and a thin tank top, Jane was emerging from her shower as well.

  We met in the hallway as we crisscrossed paths. She wore a fluffy pink robe with matching slippers and a towel wrapped around her hair. Her face was peachy and dewy and looked like a fashion catalogue. At best, I looked scrubbed clean.

  “You were out late,” Jane said. “Working a case, or out on your date?”

  “Both?”

  She shook her head. “Want to talk about it?”

  I was surprised to find that my answer was yes.

  Jane led me into her room. Before she’d moved in, it’d been nothing more than a plain guest bed, furnished with the leftovers I had on hand. Mismatching pillowcases, a hand-me-down comforter, nothing on the walls.

  Jane had transformed it to a cozy space of her own. Her bedding was a sof
t blue with a slew of matching pillows, and she’d added some airy, floral paintings to the walls to give the place a feminine flair. Her closet was open with clothes scattered wildly around it, and a jewelry box sat open on the dresser showing hints of sparkle and pizzazz.

  “You’re home early,” I started.

  “Don’t dodge the question,” she said. “We’re not talking about me. But yes, I got off a little early tonight. It wasn’t as busy as usual. So, start with the date.”

  “The date was...” I ran a hand through my wet hair and teased out a tangle. “Amazing.”

  “Yay!” Jane clapped her hands, then shifted deeper on the bed and folded her legs beneath her. “Why the long face?”

  “We got sucked into a case.”

  “Together?”

  “Sort of. He came with on this case I’m working,” I said. “And before you yell at me, the reason I took this case is because it’s personal.”

  Jane frowned. “Are you in danger again?”

  I shook my head. Took a fortifying deep breath. “It involves...well, dad’s name has come up.”

  “Oh.”

  “I’ve had some contact with him lately, and I thought you should know,” I said. “It’s been purely official business. He’s in town, living not all that far away. He looks good.”

  Jane simply nodded. “How do you feel about seeing him again?”

  “Conflicted,” I answered honestly. “I don’t want to like him. I don’t want to want a relationship with him. Yet, I can’t seem to stay away. Or to quit caring about him completely.”

  “That’s understandable. He’s family.”

  “Not really. He’s never been there for me.”

  “He’s your flesh and blood,” Jane said. “And who knows? Maybe you’d be surprised. Just because he wasn’t around doesn’t mean he didn’t care about us.”

  I squinted at her. “You’re highly optimistic about all this. And cool as a cucumber. Why?”

  She shrugged. “I never had the same sort of vendetta, or hurt, or whatever, against dad that you did. You took it very personally, which is completely understandable. I guess... I just didn’t care so much about what everyone else thought about him. To me, he was still dad. Sure, he made a bad decision, but he paid the price. To me, that’s the end of the story. Just don’t tell me he’s in trouble again?”