by Kim Hamilton
It was past ten by the time I reached the office. Marty was in the conference room doing a deposition. Kari was stationed at the front desk. She told me Dawson was interviewing another client. It had big-case potential, and he didn’t want to be disturbed. I was glad Marty and Dawson were busy because I didn’t need them involved in this yet. I wanted to talk to Kari alone.
Kari put the answering service on and joined me in my office.
“What’s going on? I don’t like that look in your eyes.”
“Last night, I got a call from Olivia. She came to my house because she had evidence linking O’Mallory to Harvey’s death. O’Mallory was one of Harvey’s investors. He made a deposit of $300,000, cash last May.”
“How does a cop get hold of $300,000?”
“Exactly. You remember that Helen told us about the undercover work that O’Mallory did and the money that was never recovered? I think O’Mallory took the money and invested it with Harvey Metzger, and I think the money belonged to Franco Giovanni.”
“Jesus, Mary, and Joe.” Kari made the sign of the cross. “What are we going to do?”
“I’m going to talk to Franco.”
“I’m going with you.”
“No. You stay here. If Dawson asks where I am, cover for me. Tell him I’m at the courthouse.”
“Shouldn’t we tell him what’s going on with O’Mallory?”
“No, the fewer people who know the better. Besides, Dawson’s no good with a secret. We don’t want O’Mallory knowing we suspect him.”
The front door opened and Chip walked in.
“I’ve got some good news for you,” he said.
“I sure could use some. Is it about Darnell?”
“Yes. He plead out. There’s no need for Sharlyn to testify tomorrow.”
Relief washed over me. I wanted to hug Chip, but I was still mad at him.
“Wow. That’s great news, Chip. Thanks. Sharlyn will be so relieved.”
“It sure is,” Kari said. “No more guns, no more snakes.”
“Snakes?” Chip asked.
“Yeah. When the bullets didn’t scare us off, Darnell set some snakes loose on us.”
Chip cringed. “Can I talk to you privately?”
We went into my office and sat opposite each other in my guest chairs.
“I’m pretty sure I offended you last night. I’m sorry.”
I wasn’t ready to let him off the hook.
“You belittled my job.”
“I didn’t mean to. I was trying to compliment you. I think you’d make a great Assistant State’s Attorney. You’re a great personal injury attorney, too. It just came out all wrong. Forgive me?”
He seemed sincere and vulnerable, so I threw him a bone. “Sure. You’re forgiven.”
“There’s something else.” He handed me an envelope. I opened it and read the contents of a two-paragraph statement. It contained Darnell Black’s notarized signature and the truth about his liability for Sharlyn’s injuries.
I smiled as I read it and looked up at Chip. He was like a little boy waiting to be praised.
“Thank you. This is exactly what we needed. Now I could get Sharlyn her money.”
He shrugged like it was nothing, but I knew that what he had done for me was a bit unorthodox. He didn’t need to do this as part of the plea deal, but he did, and I was grateful.
“Sharlyn will be thrilled. It’s what she deserves, you know. She’s on a good path now. That money will get her out of that neighborhood and away from Darnell’s people.”
“I know. That’s why I did it.”
“I guess I owe you one.”
#
I called Franco and told him I had a matter to discuss with him, but didn’t want to give him the details over the phone. He told me to meet him at Aldo’s at noon for lunch.
There were only a handful of patrons there when I arrived. The bartender recognized me and waived me back toward Franco’s rear booth.
The players were assembled like last time. Franco was sitting alone reading the New York Times. Elvis and Paulie were in an adjacent booth playing cards.
“Thank you for meeting me.”
“I’m intrigued by your need to see me. I hope this is not about our settlement arrangement. We had a deal and deals are to be kept.”
“It’s not about that. A deal’s a deal, like you said, and I will always keep my word. This is a different matter. It’s an issue involving theft and murder. I would go to the police, but, you see, I know there is at least one dirty cop involved. I’m coming to you because I think you know this cop and I think it’s your money he stole.”
Franco peered over his reading glasses at me. His expression gave nothing away. “I like how you get right to the point.” He folded his newspaper, slowly and methodically, exacting each crease like a crude origami. I assumed he was processing the bombshell I’d just dropped on him. The silence was torturous. He took his reading glasses off and laid them on top of the paper.
“How do I know you’re not wired?”
I hadn’t anticipated this question, but I should have. I was indirectly accusing him of being involved in the East Side drug network. “I’m not wired.” I nodded to the security twins. “You can have them search me if you want.”
Franco turned toward the other table and gave a subtle chin up to his men. Elvis stood. I scooted out from the booth and handed him my messenger bag, which he gave to Paulie. He dumped it on their table and started rooting through it. I held my arms out to the sides like I’d seen in the movies and steeled myself against the personal intrusion. Working from the top, Elvis patted me down with two quick and firm hands. It was over within a few uncomfortable seconds. He gestured for me to take a seat. Paulie finished with my purse and returned it.
“What do you know about the money?” Franco asked.
“You as much as told me by your reaction to O’Mallory’s testimony at the trial. I thought you’d burst a vein when O’Mallory said they found thirty grand. I hope you don’t play poker. You have a terrible poker face.”
“Very perceptive, counselor. What else you got?”
“I haven’t figured out how he got away with the money, but I know where it ended up.” I retrieved the manila envelope from my bag and handed it to him. It contained the financial documents Olivia had found. Franco opened the envelope, put the papers on the table in front of him, and picked up his reading glasses.
“Where did you get these?”
“Metzger’s wife Olivia found them hidden in a closet away from all the other documents. She brought them to me. Obviously, this implicates O’Mallory in Harvey Metzger’s murder. It seems to suggest he somehow got hold of your money sometime before, during, or after the East Side bust.”
He continued to examine the documents. “It looks like $300,000 in cash was deposited about three weeks after the bust. Where’s the rest of it?”
“You mean there was more?”
“At least double that. Which means that O’Mallory is still sitting on a shitload of my cash.”
This news unbalanced me. I thought I was on top of the facts. My confidence wiggled, but I stayed focused. “Or he had a partner in crime who has the other half of the money.”
“You mean he wasn’t alone on this?” Franco spoke between clenched teeth. He leaned across the table, his eyes challenging me.
“I don’t know. I’m trying to piece it together. I can’t go to the police or DEA. I don’t know who I can trust.”
His jaw relaxed and a smile formed on his face. “But you can trust me?”
I hadn’t thought about that. Could I trust him? He was a reputed mob leader but otherwise appeared to be a fair and savvy businessman. I could trust him as long as I didn’t cross him, and I had no intention of doing that.
“Yeah. I trust you.”
He gave me a challenging stare.
“Look,” I said. “I don’t know you well. But what I have learned from our recent business dealing is that you’
re a fair man. A man who has to watch out and protect his own interests and reputation. You can’t let O’Mallory get away with stealing half a million dollars from you, and I can’t let him get away with murdering Metzger and hanging it on his wife, or Dawson, or anyone else. So we kinda have similar goals here. Let’s figure out a way to get what we both want.”
He sat back. He raised a hand to get the server’s attention and, without asking me, he ordered us lunch. While we waited for the food, he asked how I liked being a personal injury attorney.
“I like my work,” I told him. “Even though it can be distasteful at times.”
“Young lady, you don’t know from distasteful.”
Our food arrived. It was served family style. The server put bowls of pasta, meat sauce, and antipasto salad on our table and repeated the process for the bodyguards. Franco took a plate, filled it with a sampling of everything, and handed it to me. We ate in silence for a couple of minutes.
“So how do we take down O’Mallory?”
Franco’s response was rapid and matter-of-fact. “We’ll need to snatch O’Mallory off the street, put some pressure on him, and get him to confess.”
“Sounds like you’ve done this kind of thing before.”
“Not as often as you’d think, but we’re pretty good at it.”
It occurred to me that Franco’s kind of justice was quite different than mine. Justice for him would be getting hold of the rest of the money that was stolen from him and putting a bullet between O’Mallory’s eyes. I couldn’t be a part of that.
“Maybe I’ve seen too many gangster movies, but I can’t be part of the torture and murder of a cop.”
“We don’t murder cops. That brings on too much heat. And we don’t have to torture him. You’re gonna do that.”
I choked on a mouthful of noodles and reached for my napkin. He clarified, “Your kind of torture will be mental, not physical. All you have to do is show him these papers”—he held up the statements—“and tell him that I want to know where the rest of my money is. If he doesn’t tell you, he’ll get a personal visit from my friends and me.”
“How do I know he won’t try to kill me?”
“You’ll be safe. Make it clear to him that you’re under my protection and that if anything were to happen to you, he would find himself missing a few limbs before I toss him into the harbor. You’ll have him meet you in your office in the middle of the day and have your coworkers within earshot.”
“Why should he confess anything to me?”
“Because you’ll make it clear that he can either deal with you and he can take his chances with the judicial system, or he can deal with me and my brand of justice.”
“Okay. That’s pretty compelling. I got this.”
As I was leaving Aldo’s, my phone rang. Mark’s name appeared on the display. Not for one second did I consider answering it. I couldn’t tell him about the plan I had devised with Franco. He’d either try to talk me out of it or insist on being there. I let it go to voicemail. I’d call him later today after it was over.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
We decided that Franco and his men would be waiting in their car outside my office. Franco had Paulie hide a microphone on my desk so they could listen to my conversation with O’Mallory, in case something went wrong. Kari was positioned at the front desk. Marty and Dawson were expected to be in court for the rest of the afternoon. Helen Holman was tucked away in the conference room and would join Kari after O’Mallory was in my office and the door was closed.
I conned O’Mallory into making a house call by telling him that I had new information pertaining to Olivia and Juan Carlos that was proof-positive of their involvement in the murder. He hustled right over.
“What’s this all about? You said you have another lead on the Metzger murder.”
“Yes, I do. Please have a seat.” I sat behind my desk. He sat in a chair facing me. I rested my hand on the folder containing Harvey’s documents.
“I have to be honest with you. None of us are very impressed with your detective work on this matter.”
He sat on the edge of his chair and leaned in towards me. “You’ve got a lot of nerve. What do you know about investigating a murder?”
I took that as a rhetorical question and continued. “It seemed too easy to focus on Dawson. I couldn’t understand why you weren’t investigating other investors.”
“How do you know I wasn’t? I talked to a few who were local.”
“But you didn’t interview this one.” I used the forefinger of my right hand to slide the file toward him, another trick I learned from Law & Order. I thought it exuded calm and confidence. I watched as he opened the file and examined its contents. His jaw muscles went rigid and his breathing stalled. A brief stillness followed. He tossed the documents on my desk like they were meaningless. “So what if I was an investor? This doesn’t mean I killed Metzger.”
“You found out that Metzger lost your money and you shot him.”
“You should stick to chasing ambulances.” He laughed and rose from his chair. I decided to play the rest of my cards.
“I know where you got the money to invest with Harvey. Where’s the rest of it?”
“What’re you talking about? Harvey lost it all.”
I pressed the intercom button. “Kari, can you please send in Helen.”
“Helen?”
“Helen Holman. You know, the investigative reporter who covered your East Side drug bust.” His body went rigid again.
Helen glided through the door. “You should sit back down,” she told him.
He held the armrest and lowered himself into the chair slowly, like an arthritic senior. His eyes scanned the floor, failing to focus. Kari stayed posted at my door.
Helen took the chair next to O’Mallory and turned it toward him. Leaning in, she said, “This is going to make a great story. A crooked cop, drug money, mob involvement, and murder. It’s a reporter’s dream. You’re in a lot of trouble, mister. I know that there was over half a million dollars in that house the night you raided it. I also know that you gave Harvey Metzger three hundred thousand in cash three weeks after the bust. Now the money you gave Metzger is gone. Where’s the rest of it?’
He raised his head, sat up straight, and looked from me to Helen and back again like we were bugs and he had a can of Raid. “Is this a shakedown? Are you two after the rest of the money? This is unbelievable. A lawyer and a reporter. You are both a disgrace to your professions. Why should I tell you where the money is?”
“Because its rightful owner wants it back.” I gave him my best ‘I got ya’ smile.
His blustery indignation gave way to palpable fear.
“It can’t be,” he said. “You can’t be working for Giovanni.”
He stood and began to pace the room. His firearm was holstered at his side. Mumbling to himself, he ran his fingers through his hair. A band of sweat framed his hairline. He was trapped, and a trapped man could do anything. I thought this might be a good time to reveal our strength.
“Take a look out the window.” I pulled back the curtains. “Do you recognize that town car?” He looked out the window, then pulled back, ducking out of the way.
“Oh shit. What does he want?”
“You know what he wants,” Helen said. “He wants the rest of his money, and he wants your head on a platter. But Jess got him to promise that if you tell us where the money is and they can recover it, then he’ll lose interest in your head.”
He turned to me. “How’d you get him to agree to that?”
“He’s a businessman. He’s not a bad person,” I said. O’Mallory gave me raised eyebrows. “Okay, so he’s a little bit of a bad person, but he doesn’t like killing people. He wants his money. You’re just a messy problem that I told him I would handle.”
“Handle? How’re you going to handle me?”
“I’ve got a friend in the State’s Attorney’s office who’d be very interested in all this. Then He
len’s going to write this story and sell it to the highest bidder. You’ll be behind bars soon. Your story will make headlines. But at least you won’t be dead.” I gestured toward the town car.
O’Mallory continued to pace and mumble to himself. After a few quiet moments, he said, “The money is in a storage unit.” He fumbled in his pocket and pulled something out. “Here’s the key. The key chain has the address. It’s building seven.” He handed it to me.
I examined the plastic marker attached to the key ring—Easy Access Self Storage in Arbutus, about twenty minutes from here. I opened my office door, handed Kari the key, and asked her to walk it out to the town car. Helen and I went to the window to watch the exchange. O’Mallory peered over our shoulders. Elvis was in the driver’s seat and took the key from Kari. Paulie stepped out of the front passenger seat and followed Kari back to our office.
He sat in the reception area and picked up a three-month-old People magazine, effectively trapping O’Mallory in my office until we got word that the money was retrieved from the storage unit. Kari went to sit next to him, a little too close.
O’Mallory resumed his seat and sunk into it. His face was pale and shiny from perspiration. “What’s Giovanni going to do after he gets the money?”
“He’ll call here and let me know his interest in you is over. That’s my favor to you. My interest in this is to nail you for murdering Metzger. I want Dawson and Olivia’s names cleared.”
He sat upright. “I’m telling you. I did not murder him. I may be a crooked cop, but I’m not a murderer. I found out about Harvey’s Ponzi scheme along with everyone else, except Dawson. Dawson was the first.”
Helen paced behind O’Mallory. “We’re convinced you killed Harvey, but let’s pretend you didn’t. Who do you think did it?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know. All my leads were dead ends.”
“So, you know it wasn’t Dawson.”
“He could have returned later to off Metzger, but my gut tells me he didn’t.”
“Then why did you arrest him?” I asked.
“I had to arrest someone.”
