Fourth Victim (21 page)

T
he two of them sat in Hoskins’ Crown Vic down the block from Baseline Energy, Inc. watching the fleet of trucks pull out of the yard and head toward the oil terminal for loading. Neither man was in a very good mood because neither man enjoyed the prospect of what they were about to set in motion, but they had been left no choice. The fact that they’d let Bob Healy in on their theories and that he was most miserable of all, gave them no comfort.

Serpe was wrecked, bleary-eyed and a bit disheveled. Hoskins, never the fittest looking speciman to begin with, was showing signs of the disease. He was swollen and bruised. They had kept Healy up late and he’d been the one to make the call to his brother. Joe didn’t think he’d likely forget his partner’s expression as he laid the phone back in its cradle.

“So, what’d he say?” Hoskins had asked. It was an unnecessary question. They both saw the answer in his face.

“He said to forget it. He won’t take it to the DA. He said there aren’t enough chickens in the world to lay the eggs to match how much egg on their faces him and the rest of the brass would be wearing. After the press conference, he said, there was no going back. It’s a dead issue.”

“How about another ADA?” Joe said. “Or we can take it to the DA ourselves.”

“George says that’s a non-starter. The DA won’t see us and any ADA who even entertains the thought will be committing career suicide. He says we can try to do it through the cops.”

“He knows that’s bullshit. We got more at stake than the DA’s office,” Hoskins said. “I went to my commander after Serpe and me looked at the evidence. I laid it out for him and showed him the photocopies. I told him I’d reopen the investigation quietly, that I’d do it on my own and that unless it was an air tight lock, a hundred percent, I’d keep my mouth shut.”

“And?” Healy was curious.

“He told me if I said another word about it, he’d bring me up on charges. Took a thick file outta his desk. A history of my past indiscretions, he called it. I’m sure you two understand that there was stuff in there he could make stick. Normally, I woulda told him to jam it up his ass, but I can’t afford to lose my benefits, not now.”

“What did your brother say when you said we’d take it to the press?” Joe asked.

“That shook him up, made him nervous.”

“Good,” Hoskins said.

“No, not so good. My brother said that if we went that route—the nuclear option, he called it—that we’d all better be prepared for all out war. That there were too many people in Suffolk, Nassau, and Brooklyn who had too much to lose. They’d ruin us and Gigi would be prosecuted to the full extent of the law. He also said some stuff I’m not gonna repeat. So forget the media.”

“What about the truth?”

“That’s a pretty funny question coming outta your mouth.” Healy said. “Ain’t it, though? Just the same.”

“George said that the truth was only for us to know and that as far as all these victims were concerned, they’d already gotten all the justice they were ever going to get.”

Serpe turned bright red. “Fuck him and fuck that!”

Bob Healy didn’t disagree.

There was little need of discussion after that. The three of them pretty much understood the mechanics of what had to be done and how to do it. Each had his own reason for doing it. That was eight hours ago. Now the justice clock was about to start ticking.

“Okay,” Serpe said. “The trucks are all gone.”

Hoskins put the Ford in drive and he purposely skidded to a loud stop inside the yard just outside the office door. Hoskins went in first. With his hulking build and lazy, pale eyes, he was an intimidating presence. The puffy face and bruised skin only heightened the effect. Both Marie and Toni Mazzone sat back in their seats at the sight of him blocking up the doorway. It took them a second to notice his shield and for them to remember who he was. Serpe stepped in behind and then around him. To Marie and her daughter, Joe Serpe seemed like salvation. You could see it in their eyes. Good. That’s what they wanted.

“You heard we got the guy that killed Stevie,” Hoskins said, not waiting for an answer. “We just got some details to clear up before we close the files. Serpe’s here cause he knows the oil business, so don’t mind him.”

The women were both too stunned to talk right away. They looked at each other then turned to Serpe, a plea for help on their faces.

“Congratulations,” Joe said, flashing a broad smile. “I know it’s still tough about Stevie, but I heard Jimmy sold to Gastrol.”

“Where’d you hear that?” Marie said, confused.

“Around. Big money. Good for you.”

“Thanks.”

“Serpe, you talk to the daughter in here. I’ll talk to the mother in the office.”

Hoskins spoke about the women as if they weren’t there.

Half an hour later Serpe and Hoskins were back in the front seat of the Crown Vic still parked in Baseline’s yard. As planned, Hoskins waited a minute before going back in.

“I almost forgot,” he said, handing a white envelope to Marie Mazzone. “This is for your husband, for Jimmy. He really needs to get in touch with me to explain this stuff to me before we can finally put an end to things. Make sure he gets it. I know he’ll wanna do the right thing.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Just make sure he gets the envelope.”

Hoskins parked the car where it had been before, far enough away from the yard not to be noticed, but close enough for Serpe and him to keep an eye on things.

“The daughter’s still a mess,” Joe said. “She said the fiancé had been acting strange for about a month before he was killed. He was going to church a lot. She even found him crying a few times in the morning, but he wouldn’t say what was wrong. The most she said he would say was that he needed to think about big things. I think she just assumed he was getting cold feet.”

“Maybe he was.”

“Maybe. What did Marie say?”

“She’s suspicious, you know.”

“About us showing up?”

“That too, yeah,” Hoskins said. “But it’s more than that. I think she’s a smart cookie and she don’t like the timing of how everything worked out. Plus the old man’s been drinking a lot since the fiancé was killed. Temper’s been a little short too. I think maybe he’s smacked her around a little.”

“You think she knows about the double stamping?”

“She knows. You see her face when you congratulated her on the sale? The woman almost had a fucking canary.”

“Drop me back at my car,” Serpe said.

“Why?”

“It’s been too long since my last confession.”

The priest was a hearty man in his early thirties. He had clear blue eyes, thick crooked lips, and peasant teeth. He had the hands of a farmer and a straightforward, friendly manner. His Polish accent matched his Polish name. His hand swallowed Serpe’s before giving it back.

“I am Father Dudek. You asked to see me.”

“I did.”

“How can I help you, my son?”

“I don’t think you can.”

“Please, we are here to help. I know is sometimes difficult what you have to say, but God’s Holy church is love.”

Father Dudek wasn’t trained by the priests and nuns at Joe’s old school and church in Brooklyn. Those folks had a very different concept of God’s Holy church.

“Do you remember Stevie Reggio, Father?”

Dudek withered. “I remember the young man, may the Lord Jesus Christ have mercy on his soul.” He crossed himself. “What is this about?”

“I own Mayday Fuel, Father, so I knew Stevie a little bit. He seemed like a good kid, but I know he was troubled at the end of his life.” Dudek’s face showed the truth of Joe’s words. “Toni Mazzone told me he had been coming to you for advice and you were his confessor.”

The priest’s blue eyes were wary and rightfully so. “This is true what you say, but I—”

“Let me finish, Father. I’m Catholic … at least I used to be. So I know you can’t talk to me about what you and Stevie discussed, but could you listen to a story I have to tell?”

“A story?”

“Do you like the movies, Father Dudek?”

“Yes, very much. It was one of the reasons I was so happy to come to America, to see the truth behind the movies. But I don’t underst—”

“You said the word yourself, Father: truth. The story I have to tell you is like one of those movies when in the beginning it says that the movie is based on the truth.”

The confusion went out of the priest. “I will listen. Come sit with me.”

Dudek genuflected and crossed himself as he entered the church from the rectory. Serpe refused. There was only so far he was willing to go. After his brother’s death, he and the Almighty weren’t on speaking or genuflecting terms. They sat in a pew close to the altar, Christ’s eyes involved with his own pain.

“Please, my son, begin.”

“The story goes like this, Father. When I first started working in the oil business, I was hired by a man I respected and grew to love. He took me in, made me part of his extended family. He placed faith and trust in me, so when he asked me to do certain things that I didn’t understand, I did them out of a sense of love and honor. Over the course of the years, I fell in love with this man’s daughter and we were engaged to be married.

“I was offered a partnership in the business after the marriage, but by then I had come to understand that the things I had been asked to do by this man I so loved and honored, were both illegal and immoral. They placed everyone I loved in danger from the law and placed my soul in peril. I was terribly conflicted because if I went to the police with what I knew, I would lose not only my job, but the woman I loved and her father would no doubt go to prison.

“So I went back to the one place where I knew I could find solace and advice, I came to the Church. After weeks of soul searching and guidance from a priest I had come to trust, I decided to do the right thing under the law and under God. I decided that nothing was worth the price of my soul and that I had to tell the authorities. If my fiancée loved me, she would stand by me. I made peace with my decision. But most cruelly, just after coming to the decision, I was robbed and murdered. Eventually, the police found the man they believed had killed me.”

“Yes, it is a sad story.” The priest’s eyes were rimmed in red. He fought to hold back his tears. “But I still don’t see what you want from me. I don’t—”

“Maybe, Father, that’s because the story’s not over.”

“There is more?”

“I’m afraid so. You see, a man and his partner who both used to be detectives and who own an oil company, they kept looking at the murders of the oil drivers. What they discovered was that the man blamed for the murders, though guilty of many crimes, was innocent of these murders. That the person who actually murdered me was my father-in-law to be. That he also killed three other innocent men to cover his tracks. And now not only is the man free of the murders, but he is on the verge of making windfall profits from the fruits of his sins.”

Father Dudek’s face went from sadness to rage, pure and unadulterated. This was more like it, Serpe thought, a face he recognized from his days in school. Priests were human too.

“This story is true?”

“My part is,” Joe said. “But I can’t—”

“Excuse me, my son. I must go pray.”

“For what, Father Dudek? What will you pray for?”

“For vengeance and forgiveness.”

Serpe, Hoskins, and Healy sat waiting for the Baseline truck to pull up to Hoskins’ house. Serpe and Healy had already done this ritual at Bob’s house a few hours earlier. Now as they waited, Serpe recounted the story of his visit with Father Dudek.

“Vengeance and forgiveness, those were his exact words?” Healy asked.

“His words. But I can’t do justice to the look on his face. I had the story cold.”

Healy shook his head in disbelief. Then got up to break the spell. “I’m having more coffee. You guys?”

“I’m in,” Hoskins said. “It’s on the counter next to the stove.”

“So how long did it take Jimmy Mazzone to show up at his office after you dropped me off?” Joe asked.

“His truck pulled in almost at the same time I got back there. He was moving at a pretty good clip too.”

“And you parked your Crown Vic across the street?”

“Right where the prick could see me,” Hoskins said. “The wife and daughter too. When he pulled the truck back out of the yard, I stayed behind him, right in the center of his sideview mirrors like you showed me. Every time he looked back, I was there. He sped up or slowed down, I kept the same distance. When he made stops, I parked down the street just ahead or behind him. At the last stop I followed him to, he tried walking up to the car. I let the fuck get within about ten feet, then I pulled away. You shoulda seen the look on his puss.”

There was a knock at the door. “Baseline Energy.”

Joe laughed. It had been a long time since he was on this side of an oil delivery, and now he’d gone through it twice in one day. Too bad for the driver, he was about to deliver something other than oil.

Hoskins got up and went to the door. Opened it. Driver showed Hoskins a delivery ticket. Hoskins showed him his shield. The driver took his coffee light and sweet. Both Serpe and Healy recognized him from Lugo’s. His name was Dan Litzki.

Litzki was forty, stocky, and currently scared shitless. Perfect.

While Litzki sat down at the table, Serpe retrieved the ticket box from the cab of Litzki’s truck. There were three sets of twin tickets. There was a fourth matching set. One, the blank one he’d showed Hoskins at the door. The other a perfectly pre-stamped, two hundred gallon ticket. Both had Hoskins’ address filled in at the top.

“How much time you figure you’ll do behind these pre-stamped tickets?” Hoskins asked, not bothering to wait for an answer. “You know you’ll do more time for tax fraud than the other charges? That’s federal time, dickface. No plea bargains. No parole. The IRS doesn’t like getting fucked.”

“You know what the worst part is, Hoskins?” Joe said. “It’s that Danny boy here didn’t even make much money from the scam. Mazzone made the money, but Danny’s the one gonna take it up the ass in federal prison.”