Murder Takes Time (28 page)

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 threat 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.

T
WO 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.”

F
RANKIE 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.

Suit stood to greet him, arms open wide. Frankie set the bag on the table.

“What’s in the bag?”

“I hope you didn’t forget,” Frankie said.

“What?”

Frankie handed Tony the bag. “Happy birthday.”

Tony looked at him as if he were crazy. “It’s not my birthday, Bugs. You know that.”

Bugs laughed. “I know it, sure, but you know how Billy Flannagan is—he sends one present a year, and you never know who it’s going to or when.” Tony looked confused, then Frankie said, “This year it’s your turn, Tony. Just like in sixth grade.”

Billy Flannagan had ratted them out in sixth grade—Bugs was sending a signal: someone was watching, or listening, or both.

“Open it up,” Suit said. “I gotta see what I missed.”

Tony unwrapped it, threw the paper into the bag, then opened the box. Inside was a silk tie covered with the map of Ireland. He held the tie up for the others to see. “Would you look at this shit? Mick bastard.” He passed the tie around, then opened the card that came with it. On the outside it looked like a plain birthday card, but inside was what Tony wanted to see.

Start laughing, Tony.

I’M WIRED.

Your friend forever,

Bugs

Tony laughed until he choked, his fist pounding on the table. The waiters knew them by now; otherwise, they might have rushed to see what was wrong. Tony handed the card to Paulie. “You gotta see this one. That goddamn Billy is hilarious.”

Paulie laughed then passed it along to Nicky, who passed it to Bugs.

“I’m hungry as shit,” Paulie said.

“Manicotti is great here,” Tony said.

“I’ll tell you what I could go for—a sub from Casapulla’s.”

Paulie hit the table with his fist. “Goddamn, Bugs, did you have to bring that up?” He laughed. “I’d kill somebody for a Casapulla’s sub.”

“Or a cheesesteak.” Nicky looked as if he would get in a car and drive down there right now.

“Either one,” Paulie said.

They were still talking about subs and steaks when the waiter came to take orders. Tony and Frankie both got the manicotti. Paulie ordered cheese ravioli.

“What about you, Nicky?” Frankie asked.

“Tortellini.”

“Can’t believe you didn’t get the manicotti,” Tony said.

Nicky just shook his head. “Nothing compares to Mamma Rosa’s. I never order things she made for us.”

“She was a pain in the ass,” Tony said.

“Bullshit.” Nicky damn near came over the table after him.

Tony waved his hand. “Yeah, I know, to you she was a saint, but let me tell you—”

“Nothing to say, Tony.”

Tony downed the rest of his drink and slammed the glass on the table. “She wasn’t
your
mother, Nicky. When the hell are you going to learn that?”

Nicky stared at him for a long time, then Paulie spread his arms across the table, separating them. “Mamma Rosa is dead,” Paulie said. “I know she was your mother, Tony, but we all loved her. So for once in your life—shut the fuck up.”

Tony stared for too long, but then his anger disappeared. “You’re right, Paulie,” he said, then turned to Nicky. “I’m sorry. I know you meant well.” He laughed then. “I’ll tell you what—I hope God listened to all your prayers. If he did, my mother went straight to heaven.”

Nicky took a deep breath and visibly relaxed. “Non-stop.”

They made small talk during the meal, Nicky telling them about his union rep job, and Frankie talking about his cases, and how things were going to shit. Espresso followed the meal, then Tony ordered limoncello. He raised the glass and they all joined above the center of the table.

“Friendship and honor,” Tony said.

“Friendship and honor,” they all repeated, and gulped down the cellos.

“Nectar of the Gods,” Paulie said as he set his glass down. The look on his face was semi-orgasmic. “One more, then I’ve got to go.”

They sipped the next drink, savoring it. “This has been fun,” Frankie said.

Nicky pushed his chair back, reaching for money as he stood.

“Put your money away,” Tony said. “It’s no good here. And hey, Bugs. Call me sometime. I ain’t been swimming in a while.”

Bugs nodded. He knew that the reference to swimming meant when they could meet without the wire. “I know,” Frankie said. “Not like back home. See you guys later.” As he left the restaurant, he worried over his decision. He could have just ended his career; on the other hand, there was no way he could betray his friends. Not like this. All he had to do now was make sure the Feds didn’t catch him.

Fuck the Feds. They can do their own work.

CHAPTER 44

A NEW ASSIGNMENT

Brooklyn—20 Months Ago

I
got the call on my special cell phone, the one I would throw away after today’s meeting. Nobody knew where I lived. Nobody knew what I did except Manny, Tito, and Johnny Muck. Nobody but Tony and a few others knew I was even alive. That’s the way I liked it. It pissed Tito off that I wouldn’t tell him where I lived, but the last thing I wanted was Tito Martelli dropping in unexpectedly. If he came for a visit, he wouldn’t be bringing wine.

I let the phone ring two more times. “Hello?”

“We need to talk.”

“You know where the parking garage is on Seventh?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Go park on any floor above the fifth, then take the elevator to the third. There will be a blue Camry near the elevator. Keys in the rear wheel, driver’s side. Instructions will be inside.”

“You keep getting more cautious.” Tito laughed after he said it. “I like that. Keeps both of us on our toes.”

“Glad you see it that way.”

“I need help.”

“Tell me when we meet.”

I
WATCHED FROM INSIDE
a van I rented. Got there early to make sure Tito wasn’t followed. He got off the elevator and looked around until he spotted the Camry. I kept it in long-term parking for occasions like this. It was cheap enough for the security it provided.

Tito got the keys, then opened the front door. He pulled out the envelope, read it, then threw it back on the seat, obviously cursing. It had instructed him to go back to the fifth floor. I wanted to see if anyone on this floor was watching or waiting for him to signal them. He locked the door, put the keys back and headed to the elevator, never even looking around.

Good, he’s alone.

As he was about to get in the elevator, I beeped the horn, pulled up to him.

“Jump in.”

Frustration showed. “What the hell, Nicky? You getting paranoid?” He got in the front seat. “Park this thing so we can talk.”

I pulled into an empty spot. “What do you need, Tito?”

“Special one. And she’s gotta go quick.”

“She?”

“She stole money from me.”

“Never killed a woman before. That’s against my rules.”

“Fuck rules. Besides, she’s not a woman; she’s a thief.”

“Get Johnny. I don’t like it.”

“If I wanted Johnny, I wouldn’t be here. Get your head out of your ass. This is business.” Tito lit a smoke. Took a few drags. “Listen, this isn’t some goddamn mom with kids in little league. This is a hard-core, blackmailing thief who was smart enough to steal a couple hundred grand from us. She knew what she was buying into and she sure as shit knew the consequences.”

I sat silent, wondering if I could take out a woman. The money would help. It would be a nice addition to the nest egg I was building; besides, if she stole from the mob…

“How much?”

“How much? Four hundred large.”

“That’s a lot of money, Tito, but I meant how much for me?”

Tito laughed. “So that’s what this negotiating is about. I forgot what a cold-hearted fuck you were.” He remained silent for a minute, then said, “Don’t worry. Be plenty in it for you.”

“I like plenty, but I need to know how much
plenty
is.” My dealings with Tito and those like him taught me to be suspicious. “Why so much? She dangerous?”

Tito looked around nervously, as if he was being watched. “She might be under surveillance.” He was very quick to add, “I’m not sure, probably not, but…possibly.”

“Who?”

More silence.

“Who, Tito?”

“Feds.”

I laughed. “Now we get to it. That’s why this is rich.” I stared. “So how much?”

“I don’t know. Double…fuck, triple. How about that?” He mumbled something else, then said, “What’s the big deal? Feds are probably already watching you because of Tony.”