by Dave Daren
“Not sure on the why,” I murmured. “I do think someone is targeting your associates, though. I mean, the Davide case alone was ridiculous. I probably could have had it dropped at the bail hearing if she would have called me then. I gave her my number for any other issues.”
“What about Micci?” Our client turned his attention on Liz. “Does his look like he’ll be done with it soon?”
“I don’t see it getting past the next court date,” she replied. “I made sure the ADA looked stupid as hell for bringing charges against an old man with no record and only a rumor as evidence.”
“A rumor?” Anthony raised a curious eyebrow.
I also turned my head to listen to Liz’s story. I didn’t know anything about the Micci case since Anthony had sent it straight to her, and we hadn’t exactly had any alone time to talk things out. Even the car ride here had been stiff and quiet as I worried about my fate. Now, I was curious about old man Micci and his run-in with the law.
“Yeah,” Liz snorted. “Basically, some rumor spread around Little Yemen that Micci was starting an underground boxing club and letting minors in to fight. Not only do they have no witnesses or complainants, but they also don’t even technically have a crime. No one reported a fight, illegal gambling, or injuries to a minor. It’s a whole new level of desperate.”
“What DA took that seriously?” I asked in surprise. “I know they’re pushing hard on Anthony and his people, but damn, that’s pretty ridiculous. They just heard this rumor and picked him up?”
“Basically, yeah,” Liz confirmed. “The cops allegedly got the tip from an informant and ran a mile with it. They didn’t even try a sting, which obviously wouldn’t have panned out since there’s no boxing club to find.”
“Micci and boxing, what a joke,” Anthony chuckled. “The man might be a gambler, but he tends to go to Atlantic City, not run a club.”
“That’s basically what he told me, too,” my co-counsel giggled. “He’s a funny old man.”
“Sounds like he’ll be done with this mess soon, then,” Anthony said with a half-smile. “And Rossi?”
“Rossi will be a little tougher to negotiate,” I replied. “He admits to reminding a certain person about a debt, but the DA showed up to the precinct while I was there.”
“Did he hear Rossi talk about his, ah, reminder?” Anthony asked with concern.
“No, definitely not,” I assured him. “I made sure cameras were off, and the detective wasn’t observing. They don’t like following the rules, but I was insistent. Even if they heard anything, Rossi only admitted to a conversation.”
“So, this DA thinks he has something else?” he pressed.
“I’m not sure,” I admitted. “He’s turned a single charge into a laundry list, and he was quick to send Rossi to Rikers for it. Once the bail hearing is set, I’ll see what else they have because they didn’t get anything from Rossi in interrogation.”
“I don’t worry about him in Rikers for a few days,” my client muttered darkly. “I just need to know how soon we can get him out.”
“I’ll let you know when I get the next hearing date,” I promised. “But what do all these associates have in common? Serafina doesn’t even work for you yet, and I doubt an old gambler plays a big role in, ah, business. I can imagine why taking Rossi away would be frustrating for you, but it wouldn’t completely destroy what you’ve done. It doesn’t make any sense to me.”
“No, none of these arrests have completely derailed anything,” Anthony agreed. “It just pisses me off, and it makes me look weak. If other families think I’m weak, they’ll start poaching on my low-level people to either steal them away or get them to rat. Either way, it would affect things eventually.”
“So, could it be another family that’s targeting your people?” I suggested. “Maybe trying to work their way into taking your, um, business opportunities?”
I danced around the question since I really didn’t know what all the Febbo business entailed. I obviously knew about the legal ventures and had done several things to help set those up, but I didn’t know if he ran drugs or guns on the side or something. If one of those connections was weakened, it could leave room for another family to step in and take over the pipeline.
The change in leadership would be detrimental to business, which my client wasn’t too fond of.
“Or just trying to destroy them,” Liz pointed out. “From a legal standpoint, getting rid of several associates could force others to reconsider their loyalties.”
“My people are loyal,” Anthony growled. “Seeing a few people get hauled off won’t change that.”
“Maybe not, but like you said, if someone is trying to make you look weak…” I trailed off as my client’s face deepened in color.
“If their goal is to make me look weak, the rest will fall like dominoes,” he finished and clenched his fists on the desk. “But that means it could literally be anyone who doesn’t like what I do. Another family, the Serbians, anyone.”
“Mayor Webber,” Liz chimed in.
“Chief Flores,” I added with a grimace. “It would make sense for the cops to want to make you look weak and get more people to flip. The big scheme in the eighties to take down the mob was based on wiretaps and bugs, but you know to be careful of that stuff now. If they flip someone close to you, it could get very ugly. And that’s if it really is the NYPD going after you.”
“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” Anthony muttered. “I have more than a couple enemies at play here. Life was a lot easier in the brewery.”
“We could always start one up,” I offered.
“Eventually,” our client agreed. “For now, I want to find out who the bastard is that’s making me look bad. I’ve only lost a little business from this whole situation, and I don’t want it to be more than that.”
“We’ll figure it out,” I said with confidence. “The truth always comes into the light.”
“Thanks for the pep talk.” Anthony rolled his eyes before he swallowed the last of his whiskey and set the glass down on the table with a grunt.
Then we all turned at the sound of the front door opening. It was much louder without the window to separate us, and the sound of an engine starting seemed to reverberate through the room.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“Sounds like Annie is leaving,” Anthony replied and then turned to Liz. “Would you mind excusing us for a while? Hunter and I have a few other things to discuss, and I don’t like my mother being alone downstairs.”
“Where’s Michael?” I wondered.
I’d noticed Gulia’s brother’s absence at dinner, but it was rare for him to be out of the house completely. He generally spent his days with his sister, and I realized I had no idea what he did for a living.
“He saw how rejuvenated the Italy trip left my mother,” our client said with a smirk. “He decided to take a trip of his own. He’ll be gone all week.”
“Of course,” Liz replied and smiled warmly. “I’ll make sure she’s alright. I can’t promise not to eat all the gelato, though.”
“Fair enough,” Anthony chuckled.
Liz rose from her chair and sashayed out of the room. I watched her leave, and I noticed Anthony also seemed to appreciate the view but didn’t say anything. The door shut behind her, and then it was just Anthony and me alone in his office. I could hear the sounds of night creatures outside the window as crickets began to chirp and birds ended their songs to head home for the night.
“I feel like I’m alone in the principal’s office now,” I half-joked.
“Do you think you’re in trouble?” Anthony’s lips curved into an amused smile as he watched me squirm.
“I hope not,” I muttered. “If it’s about the fed thing--”
“It’s not,” he cut me off with a wave of his hand. “I just figured you had a few questions for me.”
“Oh, about the lunatic that punched out your window?” I huffed. “Yeah, who was that guy?”
“Jovanni,” he replied. “He’s in charge of one of my… operations.”
“Does that make him a, um, capo?” I asked.
“You’ve been doing research?” My client lifted an eyebrow with amusement. “I suppose that would be the correct term for Jovanni, yes. I’ve never been a huge fan of all the old Italian terms, but it suits his style. Jovanni is somewhat old-school in his thinking and the way he runs things.”
“Is his operation the one affected by all the arrests?” I wondered. “He seemed pretty pissed off.”
“Yes, his business has had a few bumps lately,” Anthony hedged. “He’s mostly mad because I suggested closing out that enterprise completely.”
“Why?” I asked.
“One, it’s not a high enough reward for the risk,” he answered with a shrug. “Two, I’m just trying to follow in my dad’s footsteps.”
“By turning everything legit?” I hadn’t heard Anthony talk about his legit plan for a while, and I’d started to wonder if he’d given up on it.
If Jovanni’s operation was one of the illegal avenues of income, it made sense to get rid of it if Anthony was still interested in legalizing the whole family business. I was insanely curious about what he did for the Febbos, but I knew better than to push too hard with those questions.
“Yeah, but now, I don’t have a lieutenant to go talk to people more nicely than I can,” he replied. “Ben was good at that sort of thing.”
Ben Kroger had been Sal’s right-hand man and heir apparent once Anthony had stepped away from the family business, but he was killed in the Pietro’s shooting where he planned to call out the Serbians. They’d been infiltrating families all over New York, and the deadly meeting was called to announce this information to the other patriarchs.
Obviously, things hadn’t gone as planned.
“Really?” I arched a doubtful eyebrow. “He didn’t seem to talk nicely to me.”
“Well, he didn’t like you,” Anthony chuckled.
Understatement of the year.
Ben Kroger had absolutely despised me until the day he died. He didn’t trust me at all, and he’d made it clear that Anthony shouldn’t trust me, either. It wasn’t until I’d shown up to support Anthony at the Pietro’s meeting that Kroger seemed to realize I really just wanted to look out for my client’s best interests, and he’d discouraged me from attending the meeting with him. At the time, I’d thought he was trying to make a deal with the Serbians, but it seemed he had a good idea about what was about to go down.
“What about finding a new lieutenant?” I asked. “We talked about it before, but if you find someone, I’d be happy to vet them for you.”
“You want to vet someone who works as my second chair for the mob?” Anthony released a hearty laugh that nearly brought tears to his eyes. “I can’t believe you just said that.”
“Well, I don’t want another Pietro’s situation,” I scoffed.
“I can agree with that,” he said as he sobered up from his laughter. “Besides, once my dad comes back, he might knock me down to the lieutenant level. I don’t need to compete with anyone.”
“So, you decided to stay on even after your father is back?” I wondered.
I was a little disappointed Anthony didn’t seem to have any plans to return to his normal life, but I knew it didn’t matter what I said. Once the Italian had made up his mind, he was usually set on it. I just had to take the small victory in his desire to move his businesses into more legal venues. It was easier to defend a brewery in court than a drug running business. For now, I’d take what I could get out of him.
“I haven’t decided,” Anthony admitted after a moment.
“You’ve got some time,” I pointed out. “It’s not like your dad will be coming home tomorrow, right?”
“Yeah, right,” Anthony agreed, though his gaze was focused somewhere else. “I’ll decide soon. Will you still be my lawyer if I’m not part of the family then?”
“Only if you’re still paying me,” I chuckled.
“Then at least one thing is settled,” he grunted. “Now, how about that gelato? My mother makes it in several flavors, and they’re all good.”
“Sounds like I’ll need to do some taste-testing,” I joked as we headed out of his office and downstairs.
We walked into the entry and noticed no one was in the dining room. My heart skipped a beat or two until I realized I could hear the sounds of the women laughing just outside the open French doors. We followed their voices out onto the stone patio and found Gulia and Liz, each with a glass of grappa in one hand and a spoon in the other with bowls of gelato on the table between them.
“Nice of you to join us,” Liz giggled as she gestured toward the bowls. “Would you like mango? Banana? Caramel apple?”
“Oh, my God,” I murmured as I eyed all the bowls. “I need all of it.”
“Then we aren’t the only lushes,” Gulia laughed. “Grab a spoon.”
Anthony and I sat across from the ladies and joined them in the gelato smorgasbord. Every flavor I tried was better than the last, and I wasn’t even sure which ones I’d tasted.
“Have you ever thought about opening your own restaurant?” I asked Gulia casually. “I’ve never had a bad meal here.”
“Oh, I could never,” she replied and waved her hand. “Anyone could cook my food.”
“No way, Mother.” Anthony shook his head. “Hunter makes a good point. It would get you out of the house more often, and I know you’d enjoy it.”
“Perhaps,” Gulia murmured with a contemplative smile.
We chatted and enjoyed the sweet fruits of Gulia’s labor well past sunset until Anthony’s phone chimed in his pocket.
“Shit,” he cursed as he glared at the screen. “I need to make a call.”
He got up and stepped into the house while Liz and I looked at each other with grim expressions. Gulia gazed out onto the perfect emerald lawn and studiously ignored her son’s call.
I couldn’t tell how much she knew about the family business. It seemed clear she knew the Febbos were involved in some illegal activity, but she also seemed to steer clear of business conversations, even when Salvatore was at home. I wondered if they kept her in the dark, or if she preferred to be there.
“I told you!” Anthony’s voice rang out from inside.
He was clearly pissed, and he stormed back and forth in front of the French doors as he spoke to whoever was on the other end. His face had gone from calm and serene while eating gelato to fire engine red and twisted with rage in a matter of minutes. Whoever was on the phone had seriously ruined the evening.
“That doesn’t sound good,” I murmured to Liz, and she shook her head.
“I said you have to watch each others’ backs!” our client bellowed. “What part of that conversation did you miss? The part about watching or the part about our guys’ backs? Are you an idiot?”
What followed was a string of Italian words that even I could guess the meaning of. Gulia turned her head and eyed her son for a moment, though she didn’t say anything. She likely knew better than to step in when one of the Febbo men were angry, and I knew I wasn’t about to intervene, either. I’d already seen Anthony’s temper, and I much preferred to be a spectator. It seemed everyone on the porch agreed with that outlook.
“What should we do?” Liz whispered.
“Nothing until he tells us,” I answered quietly. “I’d bet we’re about to need some coffee, though.”
“I’ll get some started,” Gulia offered.
The Italian matriarch gracefully rose from her chair and breezed past her son into the kitchen. Soon, the smell of fresh coffee brewing wafted out the kitchen windows while Liz and I waited in stony silence.
“Oh, I know,” Anthony snapped. “I’ll just have to fix it myself, as usual!”
He jammed his finger on the screen to end the call before he stomped out onto the patio and looked at each of us with fire in his eyes. No one spoke for at least a minute, and
even his mother walked past him with coffee mugs in hand and stayed silent. It felt like looking at a growing gray stormcloud before the rain began to pour.
“What can we do?” I asked in a soft voice.
“You can avoid making any plans for a while,” he grunted. “You’re going to be busy.”
“It’s been that way all week,” I reminded him. “Just tell me what you need.”
“Apparently, some hotshot rookie in the Bronx DA’s office decided to pick up one of my guys tonight,” he growled. “I need you to get him out of that interrogation right fucking now.”
Looks like I’d have to take my coffee to go.
Chapter 5
The rest of the week was jam-packed with hearings, court filings, client meetings, and so much paperwork it made my head spin. The idea of hiring a paralegal crossed my mind more than once, but for now, Liz was an essential part of helping me get things done for Anthony and his associates. I knew she was only back temporarily, so I’d have to figure out something else once she headed back to London.
A handful of the earliest fabricated charges from months before made it all the way to trial, and I had a few of those to prepare for as the weekend finally seemed close enough to touch. I knew I wouldn’t really get to take the weekend off, but I would have a couple days to breathe and prep my files for next week. I had a couple of dismissal motions to file on Monday, as well as some discovery files to go through. It had been one hell of a week, and somehow, I felt like it was only just beginning.
At every turn, some associate or another had been picked up on charges that I had to sift through and see if they were valid or not. Then I had to divvy them up by importance, amount of work required, and likelihood of the DA pushing for a trial. It was exhausting, but I was almost done with court for this week, and then I could relax.
But first, I had a hearing in Brooklyn, which had been a rare occurrence since I’d taken on Anthony’s associates as clients. Most of the police officers in the borough knew better than to pick up Italians on stupid charges since Alessia was quick to shut them down, but I didn’t have much to go on with this case. I didn’t know how much they had on my newest client, though there had to be some type of evidence if there had been an arrest in Alessia’s domain.
