The Trouble Legacy

by E. R. Fallon

  The Trouble Legacy

  E.R. Fallon

  KJ Fallon

  Copyright © 2021 E.R. Fallon & KJ Fallon

  The right of E.R. Fallon & KJ Fallon to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by them in accordance to the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  First published in 2020.

  Republished 2021 by Bloodhound Books.

  Apart from any use permitted under UK copyright law, this publication may only be reproduced, stored, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, with prior permission in writing of the publisher or, in the case of reprographic production, in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency.

  All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

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  www.bloodhoundbooks.com

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  Print ISBN978-1-914614-19-4

  Contents

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  Also by E.R. Fallon

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  A note from the publisher

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  About the Authors

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  Also by E.R. Fallon

  The Trouble Trilogy

  The Trouble Boys (Book 1)

  The Trouble Girls (Book 2)

  Prologue

  Who I am is not important. The story I have to tell you is.

  After the incident, Camille O’Brien was out of commission for a few months while she recuperated from being shot in the chest by Violet McCarthy. As for Violet, she wasn’t unscathed, and suffered a gunshot wound to the neck inflicted by Camille, but had been sent home relatively early considering. Violet relished in the fact that she’d returned home while Camille, she hoped, was still suffering in the hospital.

  In the end, Camille had the last laugh, as at that time, Violet was still being watched by the police, especially by Detective Seale. Camille’s mother, Sheila, ran the neighborhood and worked under the Italian mob with the help of Camille’s boyfriend, Johnny Garcia Jr., and with Violet’s mother, Catherine, serving a prison sentence for murder and racketeering, Violet was under a lot of pressure and forced to make an agreement with them. The agreement allowed her to control her section of the neighborhood, if she kept her hands off everything else. But it gave her a chance to rebuild her family’s pub, McBurney’s, which had been destroyed by arson.

  Neither Camille nor Violet nor their families and associates went to the police after the shootout. There were private doctors who helped gangsters with their injuries, so even the hospital didn’t know what had happened.

  Eventually, Camille left the hospital, although with nerve damage on the left side of her body, which would require her to use a cane for the rest of her life. True, she rather liked the elegant choice she had made—an expensive black walking stick hand-made in Italy, with a sterling silver handle. If it was going to be a permanent and needed accessory, it was going to make a statement. Johnny became her permanent chauffer and did so lovingly. Around 1986, they married. After the death of Johnny’s first wife in 1987, she adopted Johnny’s daughter from that marriage, Phoebe, and, over time, Camille became like a second mother to the girl.

  But some things never changed. They never went away. The past was always there.

  1

  New York City, the 1990s—

  What separated Thomas ‘Tommy’ Carmine from the other cops in his division was the fact that his grandfather, Sean McCarthy, had been an Irish gangster. Tommy himself was very much aware about who his grandfather was, which was why he’d taken his father’s last name after his father’s death years ago. Of course, Tommy’s father also had been a gangster, an Italian one. But in the area of New York where Tommy worked as a policeman, the McCarthy name was synonymous with crime, the Carmine name less so.

  Tommy hadn’t always wanted to be a policeman, but after his father’s murder, he started thinking about it. His mother, Violet, had seemed surprised when he’d told her about his decision, but she gave him her congratulations. His mother had also been in trouble with the law a few times, but after her injury years ago that all seemed to be behind her. She now spent her days running their family’s pub, with the help of her live-in boyfriend, Sam.

  Tommy didn’t talk about who his family was with most people outside the neighborhood where he grew up, including his boss, his lieutenant.

  One day, Lieutenant Andrews asked Tommy to come into his office. The request took Tommy by surprise, as he wasn’t expecting it, and the lieutenant mostly didn’t deal with ordinary police officers like Tommy. Lieutenant Andrews mostly dealt with detectives, which Tommy wanted to be, and he wouldn’t let anything interfere with that.

  Tommy rose from his desk, filled with nerves, and knocked on Andrews’ door though it was opened.

  “It’s Officer Carmine, sir,” he said.

  “Come in,” the lieutenant said in his baritone.

  Tommy straightened his uniform then entered the office. “Do you want me to close the door, sir?” he asked Andrews.

  “Yeah, go ahead.”

  Tommy shut the door and stood in front of the lieutenant’s wide, gleaming wood desk. “You asked to see me, sir?”

  “Yeah, there’s something I need to discuss with you,” Andrews said, finally looking up at Tommy from the papers on his desk.

  Tommy swallowed. “Yes, sir?”

  “Sit down, Officer Carmine,” he said, and so Tommy did.

  He sat in silence, waiting for Andrews to elaborate, but his one hand gripped the edge of the chair in anticipation.

  “The neighborhood where you grew up, do you still have connections there? The higher-ups mentioned to me that you said you were from there.”

  Tommy thought that this was it. They’d found out he was a McCarthy. He sat up straighter and readied to defend himself. “I can explain,” he started to say.

  “I need your help,” Andrews said.

  Tommy’s posture relaxed a little, although it was clear to him that Andrews still didn’t know he was a McCarthy. “With what, sir?” he asked.

  “I heard you want to be a detective.”

  “Yes, that’s true. I do.”

  “Good.” He paused. “There’s been some bad goings-on in the neighborhood where I heard you grew up.”

  “What kind of on-goings?” Tommy asked, though silently he prayed that his mother wasn’t up to her old tricks.

  “There’s a heroin ring that every narcotics guy in the city wants to take down,” Andrews said, looking at him. “You’re one of the few cops in this
city from that neighborhood.”

  “I don’t live there anymore,” Tommy said, quickly. He lived just outside of it. Investigating the neighborhood would mean investigating its people which could mean betraying those he knew. Everyone in the old neighborhood still viewed him as ‘one of them’, even though he was a cop, but once he started nosing around and asking them questions, that would change.

  “Doesn’t matter where you’re from now. You were from there, and that’s just what we need: someone familiar with the area. Another station is in charge of the investigation, but they put out a call for a local, and we had one, you.”

  Tommy hesitated, but internally, he knew that this was a quest he couldn’t refuse. “Of course, sir. When do I start?”

  “Very soon. We’ll have another one of the officers finish up any outstanding paperwork for other cases. And there’s something in this for you, Officer Carmine.” He smiled as though he would reveal something that would pleasantly surprise Tommy.

  A raise? Tommy thought.

  “You want to be a detective, isn’t that right?”

  “Yes, sir, I do.”

  “Then you work this case, and we’ll promote you to detective.”

  Tommy filled with excitement and tension. Excitement, because this was his dream, and tension because he didn’t know how he would keep his friends and family out of it. But he would think of something. He always did.

  “You won’t be working alone, of course,” Andrews said. “You’ll be working alongside a detective, a woman, from the other station. I think her last name is Fitzpatrick. I’m not sure of her first name.”

  “Detective Fitzpatrick,” Tommy said. “I’m not sure I’ve ever met her before.”

  “You probably haven’t, but I’m sure you’ll get along. I’ve heard good things about her. I’ll set up a meeting with the both of you soon.”

  “Yes, sir,” Tommy said.

  “You can go now,” Andrews said, and waved him off.

  Tommy left the office, feeling proud and apprehensive at the same time. After all, being a detective was what he wanted, but he didn’t expect to have to return to the old neighborhood to do so, and he didn’t expect to have to spy on those he cared about. Tommy, loyal to a fault, questioned if he’d be able to do the job, and if he couldn’t, how would we explain that to Lieutenant Andrews?

  The incident with Camille O’Brien hadn’t changed Violet McCarthy much. It hadn’t put Violet in her place, although she pretended to everyone that it had, especially to Camille and her husband, Johnny Garcia, who now ran the neighborhood rackets together, along with help from Camille’s mother, Sheila. She and Camille had developed a silent understanding and mostly stayed out of each other’s way. But deep down inside Violet still very much longed for the old days of the McCarthys having full control over the neighborhood.

  Violet’s boyfriend, the tall, handsome, and fair-haired Sam Paul, appeared from out of the storage area of the pub. It was early morning and there was always much work to be done before the pub opened. Violet watched him from where she stood behind the bar. The odds had been against them over the years, but they had ended up staying together after a brief breakup. Sam had come to work with Violet at the pub after he lost his job in banking. He had backed a loan for Violet to rebuild the tavern after the arson attack. Then she defaulted on it. She had given Sam’s bank an income statement that made it look like she made more money than she actually had, and Sam was aware of that. He spent some time in prison as a result, where he had been the victim of a violent assault. Violet knew he didn’t like to discuss what happened but she did know that it troubled him greatly.

  Sam went to the bar and smiled at Violet. “Have I told you how happy I am to be with you?”

  Violet laughed slightly. “Yes, many times,” she said with a smile.

  “Well, I’m going to say it again, because I can’t stop saying it. I love you, Violet.” He rested his hand on the top of the bar and Violet tried not to stare at the way it tremored, which it had done once in a while ever since his assault, because she knew it made him self-conscious.

  Violet poured them each a cup of coffee and they began to chat about other things. “When’s the next shipment coming in?” she asked Sam.

  “The boat’s supposed to dock today. Or so the Swede said.”

  The Swede was the name of their heroin supplier, and after getting it from him, Violet and Sam then had their guys distribute it around the city. The whole thing made Violet feel slightly conflicted. After all, the McCarthys’ criminal enterprise dated back to Violet’s grandfather, Sean McCarthy, who thought drug dealers were the ‘scum of the earth’ and refused to partake in it. But Violet reasoned times had changed and it was a different era, and she and Sam had to do what they needed to in order to survive. After her bar had burned down and Camille O’Brien took everything, Violet had been on the dole for a while so that she could raise her son alone. With her mother in prison, it was just her and Tommy. Then Sam came back into their lives. It had been difficult raising Tommy without her mother’s help, but she’d eventually got back together with Sam and he became her rock. The heroin business had given both of them a fresh start.

  They had managed to keep Camille, who now went by the name Camille Garcia after her marriage to Johnny, out of their business, for now, but the bigger things became and the less small time they were, the more Violet worried Camille would want a piece of the action. But Violet and Sam were being smart about it. They weren’t being obvious, and were saving their money instead of spending it on things like new cars. But someday, they planned to sell the pub and start a new life in warm, sunny Florida. Sam had been worried that Violet would start using again when they began dealing, and she’d certainly been tempted to. But so far, she hadn’t.

  The pub wasn’t opened for the day yet, but there was a knock on the front door and both looked to see who it was. Violet’s son, Tommy, stood outside waving at them.

  Violet left the bar to open the door, nearly running, for she hadn’t seen her beloved son in weeks.

  “Tommy,” she said, embracing him as soon as the door opened.

  “How are you, Ma?” her handsome son asked, looking down at her. Tommy had the same dark good looks as his Italian father and had Violet’s father’s great height.

  “Oh, you know, the same. It’s been two weeks since I last saw you,” Violet said with a smile, delighted to see her boy again. “You need to visit your mother more often,” she said, scolding him in jest.

  “Sorry about that,” Tommy said. He wasn’t a mama’s boy, but Violet knew she had a slight hold over him.

  Violet waited for him to acknowledge Sam, whom Tommy had always had a tense relationship with. He’d never replace Tommy’s father, who had died in a gangland shootout years ago when Tommy was just a boy, but Sam tried his best to be there for Tommy even if he resisted his affection.

  Tommy waved at Sam, who said hello, but didn’t speak to him. Violet sighed. These were her two favorite men in the world, and she wanted them to get along, but no matter how hard she tried, some things couldn’t be fixed.

  Sam sat down at the bar and lit a cigarette, a habit he’d acquired in prison, and smoked in silence as Violet and Tommy chatted. He had learned to keep his distance when Tommy was there.

  “How have you been?” Violet asked her son. “What’s new? You found a girlfriend yet?” Violet was always teasing him about his never-ending variety of women.

  “There’s no one special.”

  “Of course not,” Violet quipped. “You never stay with them long enough to get to know them. When am I gonna get a grandchild?”

  Tommy blushed. “Maybe someday, Ma. I just haven’t found the right girl. So, how’s business?” he asked. Violet thought to change the subject. He meant the pub, of course, not the heroin business, of which he knew nothing about.

  “Good,” Violet said. “We’re doing well here.” Actually, with the heroin operation as their main racket in the neighborhood
, they were doing very well. Which was why Violet needed to keep it out of Camille’s clutches.

  “I have some good news,” Tommy said. “I’m up for a promotion at work.”

  With the main business in her family heritage being crime, Violet didn’t love that her son had become a police officer, but Tommy seemed to genuinely like what he did for a living, and because Violet loved her son, she was happy for him. “If I do good, they’ll make me a detective.”

  “That’s great, Tommy,” she said. Violet reasoned Tommy had become a cop because his father was a gangster, and with his grandmother also in prison, Violet figured her son felt like he had to make amends. Violet’s mother Catherine had been beloved to Tommy when he was a boy, but they didn’t discuss her much these days, as whenever Violet brought her up, Tommy became upset. At least Catherine had become sober while in prison, as they had a special program, and she knew Tommy was proud of his grandmother for that.

  “I’m proud of you,” Violet said, and stood on her toes to kiss her son on the cheek. She knew that Tommy dreamed of being a detective.

  “Thanks,” Tommy replied. “It’s not going to be easy though. I have to bring in a certain collar.”

  “Who do you have to arrest?” she asked him, because sometimes Tommy dropped hints about the criminal on-goings in the neighborhood, and as a cop, he knew things even she didn’t know.