by Dave Daren
“Hmm,” I mused, though I didn’t comment on his observation. “Well, I think this will be the tipping point we’ve been looking for. I need to get back and talk to Alessia. Oh, and thank you.”
Before he answered, I heard another knock at the door. It was likely the pizza I’d already been expecting, so we ended the conversation, and I stepped back into the living room.
“I’m guessing that one’s the food,” Alessia giggled when I strolled through the living room.
“Well, I doubt we could get anything else better than that last package,” I shot back with a grin.
The pizza guy was thrilled when I handed him a forty-dollar tip, and we devoured the pizza while we planned our attack. I wanted to give Brenda the scoop, but it might start to look like she had it in for Chatel. I didn’t want to risk losing the impact of the story, especially with the debate tonight.
“What if we just send it to everyone?” Bear suggested mildly.
“What?” I turned to look at his cool expression.
“Everyone,” he repeated. “Send it to every news outlet, social media page, the weather station, ev-er-y-one.”
He enunciated the last word as I chewed on a thick slice of pepperoni.
“I mean, that would certainly get it vetted, written, and seen by as many eyes as possible,” I admitted. “And I can’t think of a better way to expose all the players in this game.”
“Webber is going to be so pissed,” Alessia laughed. “And Chatel, wow, I don’t know what he’s going to do. I didn’t think he could sweat any harder than he did at the gala, but this should do it.”
“They’re all going down,” I murmured. “And it will be glorious.”
Bear got on his phone and started making phone calls, while Alessia pulled me to the side and lowered her voice.
“Listen, I don’t ask a lot of questions about your job,” she began carefully. “But should I ask where this came from?”
“No,” I replied. “Just know that no one got hurt to get it. That’s all that matters.”
“Swear?” Alessia’s hazel eyes were trained on me.
“I swear it,” I said and grabbed her hand. “I know how much this election means to you. And it means a lot to me, too. I live in Brooklyn, and I hated to see the way politics had started to taint our lives.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t start with Queens,” she retorted with a smile.
“Oh, they’ll get theirs, too,” I laughed. “Their time will come.”
We finished eating, and Bear and Alessia gathered all the documents before putting them back into the manila folder. Alessia tucked the envelope into her briefcase and patted it reassuringly.
“We have a few stops to make before the debate, I believe,” she announced.
“Yep, I have a handful of reporters anxiously waiting for us at a coffee shop in Soho,” Bear agreed. “They’re all practically drooling at the chance to expose the city’s toxic officials.”
“We better not keep them waiting,” Alessia said before she stepped closer and wrapped her arms around me in a tight hug. “Thank you, Hunter. You’ve changed my life.”
“And you better change Brooklyn,” I murmured. “You’re going to do great things.”
She stepped back with a wide grin, and then she led Bear out of my apartment.
Once the door had shut behind them, I flopped onto my couch with a sigh. We had really done it. The election had been several months of stress, hard work, and more stress, but this was the final step in securing Alessia’s win. Now that we could show the voters who Chatel really was, it wouldn’t be hard to see Alessia running over him once the polls opened.
There were still a couple hours before the debate started, but I knew it was going to be packed. My Twitter feed had been filled with nothing but references to the event for the last two days, and most of the posts had been excited about Alessia demolishing Chatel at the podiums. She was a much better speaker, and she was quick on her feet. He was a nervous wreck outside of his prepared speeches, and he had no idea the onslaught that was coming tonight.
I chuckled to myself as I made my way to the bathroom to clean up. I jumped in the shower, shaved my face, and combed back my wild curls. Then I pulled on a pair of gray pants and a navy button-up shirt. I tucked my holster into my waistband and shrugged into a gray blazer that perfectly concealed the Smith & Wesson on my hip. Then I grabbed my phone and keys and headed for my car.
It was a smooth drive to the school that had been chosen to host the debate, but parking was already a nightmare. Cars flooded the entrance and spilled out onto the street, so I circled the block and parked down the street. Hank and his partner parked behind me, and I nodded to them before I schlepped my way over to the school.
I bypassed security with a nod to Detective Gomez, who was stationed in front of the building. He motioned for the officers to let me through, and I slipped through the crowd to the area behind the flag-covered stage. Mateo waved to me and then returned to barking orders at a group of volunteers with notepads and cell phones at the ready.
Alessia and Bear stood in a corner away from the rest of the campaign team, and I noticed Chatel’s campaign team was huddled up in the opposite corner as they prepared him for the debate. Chatel was already sweating, and I hoped he planned to wear a jacket or something over the red shirt that already had dark circles in the armpits.
“Ready?” I asked Alessia as I approached the pair.
“Oh, yeah.” She grinned and tapped her watch. “Less than an hour until the story breaks in at least ten different newspapers. So, I just have to hold my own until then.”
“I think you can manage that part just fine,” I chuckled. “I’ll see you once you’re done.”
On cue, the lights blinked twice, and a voice came over the intercom to announce the candidates were now making their way to the stage and everyone needed to be seated.
“Wish me luck!” Alessia declared as she strolled toward the stage.
“You don’t need it!” I called out with a grin, and I turned to see Bear had his own look of excitement.
“This is going to be epic,” he boomed.
“Yeah, your candidate’s inexperience is finally going to be revealed on the biggest stage of the election,” a mousy voice interjected.
I glanced over and then had to look down to find a very short woman with a black pixie haircut and stern brown eyes peering up at me from behind black-rimmed glasses. She held a clipboard tight to her chest, and her mouth was pressed into a thin red line.
“I see you’ve picked another loser, Charlene,” Bear retorted with a laugh. “I know that’s your specialty. Did Chatel know that before he hired you?”
“He knows I’ve won more than I’ve lost,” Charlene retorted and rolled her eyes. “Not everyone wins a couple with the underdog, Darby.”
“No one calls me that,” he growled. “And I’ve helped more than a couple underdogs take a position they deserved.”
My head swiveled back and forth as I watched the campaign managers’ verbal tennis match before the moderator cleared his throat to announce the beginning of the debate. Bear stormed off, and I stood awkwardly next to Charlene for a moment before I rushed after him. We stood in the wings, and we watched as Alessia stood proudly behind her podium and Chatel shuffled through the notes perched on his.
“Thank you both for joining us tonight,” the moderator continued. “This has been an extremely tight race, and the people of Brooklyn are ready to hear from you. Mr. Chatel, your introduction is first.”
Chatel fumbled with his papers for a moment before he tapped on the mic and began his speech. It was the second time I’d heard one of his talks, and I wasn’t any more impressed than at the gala. He tripped over his words, backtracked, and tried again while the crowd stared at him.
“I am prepared to lead the District Attorney’s office with a firm grip on the law, which is more than I can say for my opponent, who has wobbled in her struggle between what
is fair and what feels good,” Chatel continued. “I know that Brooklyn deserves someone who has been involved with the justice system for more than a couple years, and I will be that person.”
The audience clapped when he finally stopped talking, and the moderator moved on to Alessia.
“My name is Alessia Pizzano,” she began. “I am not a politician, which means I am not here to use fancy taglines to get you to vote for me. I signed up for this election with no political friends to back me and no knowledge of exactly how all of this worked. I signed up because I knew something had to change, and I discovered the tainted waters in less than two years in the District Attorney’s office. I have never wavered in my beliefs about the justice system, though I have agreed that a few things should be changed, but that’s exactly why I’m here.”
As soon as she was finished, the audience cheered again, and the moderator held up a hand to quiet them down. Then he began with the questions we’d been expecting.
“Mr. Chatel, you have many years of experience as an attorney, but very few of them have been in courtroom law,” he said. “The people want to know how your experience will help you as a District Attorney?”
“I began my career as a defense attorney,” Chatel explained, and I was slightly taken aback. “I transitioned into estate law and real estate law when I realized it was an area that needed people who wanted to help families in a way that was, ah, off the beaten path. Estate law…”
He continued on a long-winded explanation about how estate law worked, who he’d helped, and how grateful his clients were for his services. Somehow, he managed to tie that into his experience with buying and selling real estate, which as everyone knew, was the real source of his money. When he finally finished sputtering, the moderator turned to Alessia.
“Ms. Pizzano, you only graduated from law school two years ago,” he said. “Do you believe you’ve gained enough experience to successfully and justly prosecute the criminals of our city?”
“I’ve learned much from my time as an Assistant District Attorney,” she replied easily. “And even becoming an ADA was no easy feat, especially for a fresh graduate, but I worked my tail off to earn the position. My real experience comes from life experience, not work. I’ve met hundreds of people during this campaign who have shown me what really matters to them, and that is to treat every criminal fairly and ensure they receive a just punishment for their crimes. It is also just as important to people that incarceration is not merely a time-out. It should be a time for the convicted person to learn how to return to society as a productive member, not merely another felon in a cycle of recidivism.”
“Thank you, Ms. Pizzano.” The moderator offered a warm smile before he turned back to Chatel.
The questions about policy, stances on current laws and punishments, and community outreach continued for thirty minutes with only a few interruptions during their responses, but I could feel Alessia’s heat rising as we neared the release of the story.
“Mr. Chatel, your campaign has focused heavily on ridding the city of mob family crime,” the moderator began his next question. “How do you plan to handle a known mobster accused of a crime?”
“The Italians have run this city for far too long,” Chatel replied with a wide smile. “It is time for New York to take it back. Any mobster who is arrested in Brooklyn will receive the harshest punishment that I could offer as a District Attorney. This will serve to warn the rest of his family that I mean business. I--”
“Or will it help you win over your friends in Serbia?” Alessia interjected with raised eyebrows.
“I beg your pardon!” Chatel exclaimed, but his eyes danced around the room as he tried to recover. “I have no idea what you’re insinuating!”
“I’m not insinuating anything,” Alessia countered. “I’m telling the people all the pros for your plan to rid the city of Italian Mafia families. And one of those pros is that your Serbian friends get a leg up on their own criminal enterprises.”
Chatel’s jaw was nearly on his podium as he stared at Alessia with utter shock. The crowd was buzzing with whispers and questions, and the moderator finally raised his hands again to quiet everyone down.
“Ms. Pizzano,” the moderator admonished. “Those are some heavy accusations. I don’t suppose you have some proof of them?”
“As we speak, documentation of Mr. Chatel’s ties to the Serbian mob are being published by every media outlet in the state of New York,” Alessia replied with a dazzling grin. “These documents outline Mr. Chatel’s secret family in Serbia, as well as the payments he has received and will continue to receive for his political services.”
The crowd hastily pulled out their phones, and I felt my own vibrate inside my pocket as my news app blared the headline.
DA Candidate, Serbian Lover in Bed with Mafia.
Whispers turned into full-blown chatter while everyone read the articles across various platforms, and I grinned as their faces showed everything from shock to outrage.
“There they are,” Bear laughed as he scrolled his cell. “It’s everywhere, all over social media, the news.”
I glanced up from my screen to see Chatel had nearly collapsed against the podium, and all the blood had drained away from his face.
“Please!” the moderator yelled. “If I could please have everyone calm down!”
“Brooklyn, I want to be your District Attorney because I love my people,” Alessia declared, and the audience quieted. “Not because it would be fun, not because I think I need a fancy office, and certainly not because someone is paying me to help their friends. I want to do this for you! You deserve better than this!”
The crowd erupted into a roar of cheers and claps and whistles as Chatel ran from the stage.
Chapter 15
I woke up the following Tuesday and took a long, deep breath. It was finally election day, and I could hardly wait. I had a good feeling about this, but it would be hours before the election results were confirmed.
I rolled out of bed and threw on sweats and a t-shirt. I had a lot of energy to burn today while I waited to vote and then head to the campaign party. I might as well hit the gym and get something out of it.
Before I left, I called Gargiulo’s to confirm our reservation for tonight. I’d booked a party room with a giant projector to watch the election results and offered to pay for the entire campaign team to eat dinner at the Italian restaurant while we waited. The staff had warned me it was likely to be a four-digit bill to pay for food and drinks for at least thirty people, but it was worth it.
Six months ago, I never could have afforded such a luxury for me and a date, let alone a group of a couple dozen people. Now, I had a steady flow of good income, and it was time to celebrate months of hard work. While I’d stayed by Alessia’s side for most of the campaign, there had been many volunteers who had knocked on doors, collected polls, and put up flyers and posters all over Brooklyn. They were the ones who really deserved a nice night out.
My phone buzzed on the nightstand just as I began to lace up my sneakers, and I read a text from Bear.
Are you sure you want us to invite all the volunteers tonight? Gargiulo’s isn’t cheap.
Yes, they’ve earned it, I sent back.
Obviously, Bear thought I was crazy, but he wouldn’t argue. He’d be getting free food, too, and I knew he could eat. I laughed as I strode downstairs and waved at Hank as I headed across the street to my gym.
Almost two hours later, I was drenched in sweat and starving. I jogged into the coffee shop next door and grimaced as I realized my stench was probably offending everyone else in line. I smiled my apologies and grabbed a bagel to go before I headed back to my apartment to clean up. I scarfed down the bagel as I made my way upstairs, and then I showered and pulled on jeans and a button-up shirt. I sprayed on a bit of cologne for good measure and walked into the living room to grab my keys.
Then I realized I still had a couple hours to kill, so I decided to read a few of the f
ollow-up articles on Chatel. The media was calling for him to drop out of the race, but he’d refused. He’d continued to call Alessia a liar, and Mayor Webber was quick to defend him, though his name had been brought up more than a few times. It seemed some other government agencies had decided to open an investigation into the Mayor’s dealings with the Serbian mob, and he’d had to quietly step out of the spotlight.
I wished he’d gotten a bit more attention from the exposition, but as long as someone figured out he was fishy, he’d get what was coming to him. Hopefully, that was an impeachment or whatever the equivalent was for the Mayor of a city. He needed to get the boot before he turned any other government officials to the Serbians.
Even Chief Flores had been called out by a few outlets, but without direct proof of a link to the Serbians, he’d mostly stayed clear of the backlash. He just looked dirty because he was often seen with the Mayor, though I wasn’t entirely convinced he’d actually stayed out of the mob business. He could argue that he didn’t like Anthony because he was a criminal, but his confrontation told me he had a lot more to hide than being friends with the wrong crowd.
The video of Chatel’s face when Alessia accused him of impropriety had gone viral, which was just as amusing to see on my phone as it had been in person. His face had gone from sweaty to pasty white to red as a tomato, all within about thirty seconds. And the poor moderator, who had been just out of my view from backstage, had been shaking with anxiety while Alessia delivered blow after blow to Chatel. I watched that a few times to entertain myself before I decided I could just take my time to drive to the poll and the restaurant. Maybe I could sweet-talk one of the restaurant staff into hooking me up with some cannolis before everyone else arrived.
I grabbed my things and headed down to the parking garage. Then I drove toward my assigned polling location in Brooklyn Heights. More than a few heads turned in my direction when I walked in the doors, and I wondered if they recognized me from the videos of the shooting aftermath or if they knew me as a Febbo lawyer. I’d gained a sort of notoriety over the last few months since I’d left my dusty old corporate firm, but it was still weird to see people clearly watching me.
