But before Mike reported to the precinct, he had a final appointment with Terry in physical therapy. He was amused to see Dolores sitting in a plastic seat outside the therapy room when he arrived. “You’re still not finished?” Mike chided playfully.
“Oh, Hell yeah,” Dolores retorted with a big smile. “I finished up a week ago. I’m just here to rub it in and collect on our bet.” She stood up and laughed, then followed Mike into the therapy room. Terry greeted him warmly and then ran him through his stretching and weight work while Dolores watched and shouted out good-natured taunts. Mike stood against the wall and extended his left arm to its full height, pressing his left side flat against the gray paint and letting out a sigh and a low moan as his ligaments fully stretched out. He did twenty reps with a seven-pound weight and then Terry did a full extension manipulation on the table, without any screaming from Mike.
When he had finished, Terry said, “That’s it, Mike. You check out at full range of motion. I’ll certify you as achieving maximum medical recovery.”
“Good. I hope I never see your ugly mug again,” Mike quipped with a playful smile.
“The feeling is mutual,” Terry responded, slapping Mike on the back and stepping away to grab a towel. “I have other patients who need my time, so you can stay the Hell away.”
“Gladly,” Mike said, turning and offering his hand to the therapist. They exchanged a firm shake, and then Terry drew Mike into a hug. Mike walked over to his jacket and pulled out a gold gift bag, designed to hold a bottle of wine. Inside was a bottle of The Macallan 18, which Terry accepted with enthusiasm.
“What about me?” Dolores asked. Mike strode over to her and gave her a bear hug, then dug out his wallet and extracted a twenty-dollar bill with a bow of his head. “You got me,” he said.
“You’re damned right,” she said. She then walked over to Terry and handed him the bill. “That’s for you, Honey. You got me there ahead of this schmuck. Thanks.”
They all exchanged a good laugh before Mike had to excuse himself to get to work.
Ж Ж Ж
When Mike walked into the bullpen, nobody was at their desks, but he could hear loud laughter and talking coming from the conference room. Mike walked over and peeked inside. The entire detective staff was inside and almost everyone was holding a donut.
“I guess the ban on food is lifted?” Mike asked rhetorically.
“Yeah,” replied George Mason, the corner of his mouth showing a trace of powdered sugar. “The exterminator was just here and gave us a clean bill of health. No sign of recent rat droppings and nothing in the traps. We’re clean. He suggested that we might want to avoid food inside the building for a few more months, but we told him to go fuck himself.”
“No doubt,” Mike said with a laugh.
“You want one?”
“No, thanks,” Mike said, “I’m trying to watch what I eat.”
“Don’t kid yourself, Stoneman. The lovely medical examiner will never mistake you for a stud.”
“Yeah, well maybe that’s right, but I’ll keep trying to fool myself.”
After the donut orgy broke up, Mike and Jason adjourned to the fifth floor conference room to work on their paperwork to wrap up the Christine Barker investigation. The probable murderer, T. Warren Magnan, was already dead. No further arrests were likely and the case could be closed as “solved.” They sorted through the documents and weeded down the file to the bare minimum. Jason volunteered to walk it down to Sophie in the file room.
“Sure,” Mike said, “you make sure that you stay on her good side. She’s a valuable resource.”
“Amen to that.”
“Did the vice guys take care of all the women in the hotel?”
“I think so,” Jason said, looking up from the file box. “I spoke to one of the uniforms from Brooklyn and they took them to a local women’s shelter that specializes in rape victims. They should be in pretty good hands.”
“Good. Sometimes we forget about the living victims. The dead ones can’t get hurt anymore.”
“Have you heard from Steph?”
“Michelle is in contact with her. We’re not happy about her reaching out to that douche, Peacock. But she posted some things on Facebook about how she’s happy that Christine didn’t really OD and while it’s sad that she was murdered, Steph is glad that it’s resolved. It’s funny how she was so offended by the idea that it was an overdose, as if that’s a worse way to die. Anyway, she seems fine. Michelle told me that the kid is thinking about enrolling in college in the fall.”
“That’s good. She could use a fresh start.” Jason picked up the file box, tapped on the lid, and headed toward the stairs.
A few minutes later, Captain Sullivan called Mike into his office. After the story in the Times, the commissioner suggested that Mike and Jason should take some time off – so that they could get out of town while the story faded into the oblivion of the 24-hour news cycle. The commissioner and the mayor were concerned that Dexter Peacock or other reporters would dig further into the story and they both wanted Jason and Mike to be unavailable for comment. Although Mike protested that he was just back to work, it was clear that Sully was not going to take no for an answer. Mike said that he would talk to Jason about it and make some arrangements.
Ж Ж Ж
Later that day, Mike visited Marie and the kids. They had exchanged hugs at the cemetery, but this was an opportunity to really talk.
“I’m so sorry,” Mike said, unable to articulate his feelings more specifically.
“Don’t worry, Mike. Darren was depressed because of his injury and he knew deep down that he wasn’t going to get back to active status. On some level, I’m sure that he’s happy he went out shooting and protecting you. The kids and I will be alright.”
Mike just nodded. He made sure Marie knew about some of the foundations and charity groups like the Steven Siller Tunnel to Towers foundation and the New York Police and Fire Widows’ and Childrens’ Fund, which provided money for mortgage payments and college tuition for the families of fallen heroes. “He really was a hero,” Mike said.
“I know,” Marie said, wiping away a tear. “Will you come by sometimes so I can make you a proper dinner?”
“Absolutely,” Mike responded with a smile.
Ж Ж Ж
That night, Mike walked back to Michelle’s apartment with her after they had been to dinner at a jazz club in Greenwich Village. “You really need to start leaving more of your stuff here,” Michelle suggested.
“Hey, I have a toothbrush and a change of clothes,” Mike retorted. “What more do I need?”
“How about a work suit and a few clean shirts?”
“If I did that, you’d start expecting me to be here all the time.”
“I could get used to you being here,” Michelle said, wrapping her arms around his neck and looking up into his eyes.
“I agree,” Mike said, giving her a tender kiss. “But I don’t want you to have to do my laundry for me.”
“I hate laundry, but I won’t mind folding your shirts.”
“Well, let’s talk about comingling our dirty laundry in the morning.”
“I spoke to Rachel about the idea of taking some time off together. She has an Aunt who works for a cruise line and can get us a discount. She’s going to talk to Jason about it.”
“Great. I kinda like the idea of being in the middle of the ocean and unable to be reached by email or cell phone.”
They undressed and Mike deposited his clothes in Michelle’s hamper.
Michelle shed her robe and climbed into bed. They turned out the light and pulled up the covers. Michelle snuggled into the crook of Mike’s left arm. “I’m glad you have two working shoulders again.”
“So am I. Believe me. So am I.”
The End
Note from the Author
Thank you for reading Deadly Enterprise. As an independently published author, I rely on word-of-mouth recommendations to help genera
te interest in my books. So, if you enjoyed it, please pass along your recommendation by posting a review on amazon.com, Goodreads.com, and/or BookBub.com. And tell your friends! You can also post notes and comments on the Mike Stoneman Thriller Facebook group. You can also contact me directly at my website. I’m happy to talk about the book, and if you noticed any errors, typos, or incorrect information, I’m happy to hear from you so that I can correct the next edition. (If you are the first person to point out a typo, I will thank you by sending you a free autographed copy of one of my other books – or this one if you’d like a special copy.) I’m currently working on book #3 in the Mike Stoneman Thriller series. If you want to get previews, or if you want to be a beta reader of the manuscript of the new book, contact me at the website and I’ll get you on the list of my super-fans – the “White Board Squad.” (If you don’t understand what the White Board Squad means, then you haven’t read Righteous Assassin, so you really should do that right away.)
BookBub members: Please follow me and help me get to 1000 followers. You will receive notices from Bookbub when I have a new release, preorder, or discount!
Again, thank you for your time, which I know is valuable, and please keep reading independent authors – we need you!
--KGC -- November 2019
Acknowledgements
As always, first and foremost I thank my wonderful wife, Sharon, who is more invested in the characters of the Mike Stoneman series than any other reader, and in some cases even more than the author. Sharon helped brainstorm plot ideas, character development, and the broader story arc of the series. She also read early drafts and made dozens of helpful suggestions.
I also owe huge gratitude to my excellent editor, Samantha M. Chapman www.SamanthaChapmanediting.com, who picks apart my writing without mercy – exactly what I want in an editor. Her contributions are too numerous to count. Any independent authors who think it’s well-edited (as I do) should consider hiring Samantha.
I am also grateful to my beta readers, especially J.B. Holeman and Buzz & Beth Baradyn, who provided amazing insight and helped point out gaps and inconsistencies in the drafts and got me to tighten up the story.
Finally, many thanks to my cover designer, Peter O’Connor from Bespoke Book Covers www.BespokeBookCovers.com. Following up on a marvelous cover design for Righteous Assassin, Peter outdid himself for this book and I am thrilled with the result. Special mention here to Ryan McGrady, the photographer from Brooklyn who took the original picture of the lower Manhattan skyline and the Brooklyn Bridge that Peter turned into the finished product.
I also need to acknowledge that gathering accurate information about the inner workings of the Internal Affairs department of the NYPD, as well as some of the other technical details about the internal security procedures of the department, proved difficult for me when writing this book. To the extent that any of the details here are inaccurate, the fault is entirely mine. If you noticed, and you know better, please contact me – I’d love to have you as a consultant on a future book!
I also will extend my apologies to the runners reading this book who know that the NYC Half-Marathon was on March 17, 2019, not exactly in line with the book’s timeline. Since the race referenced here was organized by the fictional NYC Runners and not the NYRR, I’m taking a bit of poetic license about the fictional date of this fictional Half-marathon. But, if you said “wait! That’s the wrong date!” I congratulate you for paying attention.
And, for anyone reading this book who is thinking that it’s not plausible that members of the police department would be running a prostitution operation, please see the next few pages, which are excerpts from actual news reports of the events that inspired this story.
Finally, for readers who have not yet read book #1 in the Mike Stoneman Thriller series, Righteous Assassin, keep reading and you will find a preview of the beginning of that book.
--KGC
APPENDIX
(Truth is sometimes just as strange as fiction . . . )
Former NYPD Detective Ran $2 Million Prostitution Ring, Aided by Officers.
September 13, 2018
Retired New York Police Department Vice Detective Ludwig Paz used his experience investigating prostitution rings to run his own brothels, aided by seven active police officers. The Brooklyn and Queens operation netted more than $2 Million. Paz was arrested this week and charged with promoting prostitution and enterprise corruption, according to the Queens District Attorney's Office. He is also accused of paying off active officers to protect the operation.
Deputy Commissioner of Internal Affairs Joseph Reznick said all of the officers charged in the case had sex with the prostitutes, while on and off duty. "If a book was ever written about this case, I would probably name it 'Loyalty,' or 'Disloyalty Versus Friendship' because that's what it came down to," Mr. Reznick said at a news conference. Brooklyn South Vice Detective Rene Samaniego, 43, Sgt. Carlos Cruz, 41, and Detective Giovanny Rojas Acosta, 40, allegedly tipped off Mr. Paz on investigations. They face enterprise corruption charges. The officers worked in units based in Queens and Brooklyn, including a Vice squad investigating prostitution in South Brooklyn, an official said. Another officer, Giancarlo Raspanti, provided confidential information from department computers in exchange for discounted sex from the prostitutes, prosecutors said.
Commissioner James O'Neill said Thursday that the suspects "tarnished the NYPD shields they wore.” He went on to say that, "Today, those who swore an oath and then betrayed it have felt the consequences of that infidelity.”
In May 2017, a retired NYPD officer was sentenced to 15 months in prison for running a multimillion-dollar online escort service. Another former NYPD officer was sentenced to 66 months in prison that September for conspiring to engage in sex trafficking of a minor.
(Consolidated from news reports, September 13, 2018.)
For any Readers who have not yet read Book #1 in the Mike Stoneman Thriller series, Righteous Assassin, here’s a taste of that book. If you want an autographed paperback copy, you can order it from my website.
RIGHTEOUS ASSASSIN (Mike Stoneman Thriller #1)
Chapter 1 – It’s a Jungle
July 29
CRIME SCENES IN NEW YORK CITY are often bloody, regularly bizarre, and occasionally fascinating to the homicide detectives who are jaded to all but the grisliest circumstances. Detective Mike Stoneman had seen them all in his twenty-four years on the force. Stiffs in swimming pools, stiffs tied up in basement dungeons, stiffs with various parts of their anatomy removed, and stiffs fished out of the Hudson river with their eyeballs eaten away by aquatic creatures. This one, however, was a new variation – what he referred to as a “unicorn.” Eaten alive by tigers is not a cause of death often registered by the New York City medical examiner. Mike knelt down next to what was left of the corpse’s foot and examined the remnants of duct tape that had bound one ankle to the other. The tigers had left the tape mostly uneaten. Discerning palates, apparently.
“Just another routine murder in the Big City, eh, Mike?”
Stoneman looked up, squinting against the morning sun, and saw Detective Jason Dickson towering over him. Jason was six-foot-three, with broad shoulders that tapered down to a slim waist. Even wearing a suit, it was obvious that he was in great shape and had well-defined muscles across his entire upper body. He was a mountain compared to Mike’s five-foot-ten and slightly paunchy frame, even when Mike was standing. On this morning, Jason was wearing a blue pin-striped suit with a starched white shirt that contrasted sharply against his dark brown skin. His red-and-blue silk tie was expertly knotted and held in place with a gold tie bar, giving him an especially dapper appearance next to Mike’s rumpled jacket, wrinkled shirt, and scuffed loafers. Even at 9:00 a.m., the July humidity made Mike sweat as the temperature started its unstoppable rise toward too-damned-hot, but Jason seemed impervious.
Mike looked up at his young partner and smiled, which was a rare occurrence. “What? Never seen a stiff pa
rtially eaten by wild animals before?”
“Oh, sure,” Jason parried, “just not this early in the morning.”
Mike turned his attention back to the remnants of the body. The crime scene team was nearly finished, but the photographer was still taking shots all around the area. Normally, Mike would be worried about people walking around and contaminating the evidence, but in this case the press had been relegated to the spectator area above the tiger enclosure and the zoo security team had not allowed anyone but NYPD into the pit. The whole Bronx Zoo was closed for the day. Mike could hear the faint thumping of a chopper’s rotors somewhere overhead, but he ignored it. “Did we get a positive ID on the corpse?”
“Yes, we did,” Jason responded with his usual perfect diction. “You were correct, Mike. It’s Mickey Gallata. The family has not reported him missing, but his son confirmed that he left home yesterday evening and did not come back. I guess he’s not going to make it.”
“No,” Mike said without emotion. “Slick Mick will definitely not be having supper with his family ever again. It’s funny, you know. We’ve been trying to pin a conviction on him for what, a dozen years? And now, somebody has taken care of all that for us. I guess we should thank them.”
“When we figure out who’s responsible, I’ll send a fruit basket.” Jason walked away to talk with the uniformed officer who was patrolling the perimeter of the tiger enclosure looking for anything out of place. Mike was pretty sure that the beat cop from the South Bronx was not going to know whether anything he saw in the replica jungle was out of place or not.
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