“I haven’t seen my husband for a while.”
“Jesus Christ. Don’t tell me that.”
Those tobacco-stained, chipped teeth showed when she smiled. “You’re the one who asked. Besides, instead of questioning what your uncle is doing, you might think about who cares for you, dear.” She turned and walked back to her chair against the wall. She didn’t walk like a nurse either; she was…balanced, like an athlete.
But she’s probably right. I took a sip of water, and gave her the “once over” again. A towel peeked above the pocket of her uniform. “Cops will be here all morning. If there’s a piece under that towel I’d keep it hidden.”
She smiled again. She was good at that. Far better than the lieutenant. “Thanks,” she said.
Over the next several hours, I prepared myself for the inevitable questioning from IA, but all I could think about was being back in the family. I had confused feelings about Uncle Dominic, but family was the most important thing in my life—that, and being a cop. How’s that for a contradiction?
I remembered the family get-togethers, especially the holiday ones. Christmas was best, exchanging gifts on Christmas Eve with all the cousins, eating a meal that should have filled us for days, then getting up the next morning to too many presents and too much laughter. Those thoughts brought up another worry—not having my own kids. I was thirty. Past the time when most “good Italian girls” start a family.
While I lay in the hospital bed, I dreamed there was a line of suitors at the door, all waiting to vie for my affections.
Like a princess in a fairy tale.
The door opened a few seconds later, but it wasn’t a suitor. It was IA. Same two guys. Randall was the taller of the two, but other than that they looked alike.
“Good morning, Detective. How are you feeling?” That came from Randall.
“I can talk, and I’m sure that’s what you wanted to hear.”
Randall looked to Green and they smiled. Smirked was more like it, and they even did that alike, causing me to wonder if they taught smirking in Internal Affairs school.
“I like you,” Green said, as he pulled out a tape recorder. “Detective, we’re going to tape this conversation. Is that okay with you?”
“Fine by me.”
Randall leaned forward, but he bent in the wrong places. It made him look like a Slinky with a stiff back.
“You have a right to have your representative here.”
“Let’s get it over with. I got nothing to hide.”
Randall, still bent in that same posture, stated the date and time into the recorder, then he mentioned he would be interviewing Detective Connie Gianelli.
“Detective Gianelli, tell us what happened the other night. The night of February 12th.”
I took a moment to think about what to say, then I recited the details of the evening, stopping at the part when I got to the hospital.
“Detective, this was a major drug bust with known drug dealers. Violent men. Why didn’t you get backup?”
I should have cleared this with Chambers. Not knowing what to say, I opted for the truth. “We decided to go in without backup.”
“Why? That’s against policy.”
Spit the truth out here, too. “We were concerned with leaks. We wanted control of the situation.”
Randall’s tone was getting more sarcastic by the minute. “And when things went bad. When Detective Rafferty was killed, why didn’t you call for backup?”
I didn’t know if these guys were slow, but they were sure as hell annoying. “I already told you, we didn’t have backup arranged.”
“Why not call 9-1-1?”
I sighed. What was I going to say—that I didn’t trust 9-1-1? If I said that, they’d commit me to the looney bin. “Things were happening fast. Bullets flying. I had one partner dead and one wounded.” I stopped for only a second, then, “And I couldn’t find my phone. Must have dropped it in the alley.”
“Yes, you must have,” Randall said. “We recovered both your phone and Sean’s at the scene.” He took time to look at his notes. “But tell me, Detective, who did Sean call?”
I paused. Things were getting sticky. “He didn’t call anyone.”
Green shuffled through some papers in a manila folder and pulled one out. “This is a copy of the phone log for Detective Monroe’s cell phone. There is a call to Dominic Mangini, a known member of organized crime. And that call went out at 10:27.”
Should I tell them I used Sean’s phone? That it was me who called. I grabbed the paper and scanned the report, frantic. “Something’s wrong.” I threw the paper at Green. “Why are you doing this? Sean’s a good cop.”
“Was he?” Green said.
His use of the past tense brought reality back to me. Was he?
After that, Randall’s questions came rapid fire. “Detective Gianelli, why didn’t you and Detective Monroe want backup? Were you planning to get away with the drugs, or the money? Or both?” He walked to the other side of the bed, then leaned toward me, his face inches away. “And by the way, Detective, where are the drugs?”
Green and Randall hovered like vultures on each side of the bed. “What went wrong?” Green asked. “Why did Detective Monroe call Dominic Mangini? Why did the drug dealers turn on you? And yes, where are those drugs?”
My gut tightened. I glared. “You got the money, didn’t you?”
“No drugs, though.”
“I can only assume they weren’t carrying them because they never intended to do a deal. They knew we were cops.” I leaned forward. “Knew it. That’s why Sean and Jerry are dead.”
Randall pretended to look at his notes. “And tell me again how it is you’re not dead? The dealers were killed with other guns, ones not found on the scene.”
Green stepped in. “Where are those guns, and more importantly, where are those drugs?”
I clenched my fists, but what I wanted was to smack this guy. “I already told you. Some people came and started blasting, then they took me to the hospital.”
“So this mysterious group of Good Samaritans came in, killed heavily-armed drug dealers, drove you to the hospital, then disappeared without asking for so much as a thank you. Oh, and they gave you back the money…but not the drugs?”
My expression must have shown the disgust I felt. “Guess you gotta love New York.”
“Detective, everyone in this room knows you’re dirty, and I’m going to see to it that you get suspended.”
“Suspended? We busted more drug dealers than any other borough. You know how much cocaine and heroin we got off the street last year?” I wanted to hit him. “Get the hell out of here. It looks like you made up your mind anyway.”
Randall’s smile seemed sinister. “We’ll get out, Detective. But we will be back.”
I lay back on the pillow, a lot of questions plaguing me. Where were the drugs? Was Sean dirty like they said, or did someone set us up? Should I have told them about the call to Dominic?
I closed my eyes and tried to think of who might have the drugs. There were endless possibilities, but the one thought that kept coming back to me was Manny. Maybe keeping the drugs was payback for busting Johnny Hats. Most of these mobsters would cut your throat as soon as look at you, and Manny was one of the worst. Goddamn, I hope it isn’t Manny.
***
The phone rang three times at the Mangini house. Dominic picked it up on the fourth ring. “Pronto.”
“This is Anna Crincoli.”
“Is she all right?”
“Fine, Mr. Mangini. But the two internal police were here. They say they are going to suspend her.”
“But Concetta is all right?”
“She’s upset.”
“Thank you, Anna. I’m in your debt.” Dominic paused. “Are you sure you don’t need help?”
“I’m fine, Mr. Mangini.”
“Good. Stay close to her,” he said, then hung up.
Dominic put the paper down on the table and walked to
the patio door. “Zeppe, come here.”
Zeppe came into the kitchen with a coffee in his hand, smiling. He had managed to keep a full head of dark wavy hair, and his olive skin did a good job of hiding the few wrinkles he had. “What’s up, Dom?”
“We need some of our friends at the papers. Concetta needs help.”
“What kind of help?”
“A few stories, well-placed.”
“Help me out here, Dom. You talking about an article buried on page ten or something more prominent?”
“I’m talking about headlines.”
Zeppe wiped his brow. “That’s gonna cost us.”
“Get them on the phone. I’ll talk to them.” Dominic seemed lost in thought. “We might kill two birds with this one, Zeppe. Clear Concetta’s name and get her out of narcotics.”
***
Lieutenant Chambers burst through the door and pushed past Nurse Crincoli, interrupting my dinner. He had a paper in his hand. “You see this yet?”
I shook my head. “What?”
“Scoot over,” he said, then handed me the paper and sat on a chair beside me. “Look at this, Connie. You’re a hero.”
I stared at the headlines. “Detective Concetta Gianelli—Hero Cop,” then underneath it.
‘On the back streets of Brooklyn, two New York City Police Officers died in the line of duty when an undercover drug bust went bad. Detective Gianelli shot and killed several drug dealers while suffering a shot to her thigh. Then, in a touch-and-go situation, she not only held her own against better-armed criminals, she got the best of them until help arrived. Unfortunately it was not in time to save her two partners: Detectives Sean Monroe and Gerard Rafferty. Both were pronounced dead at St. Vincent’s Hospital.’
I whistled. “Holy shit. Whose ass did I kiss, huh? The New York Times loves cops today. How about that?”
Chambers stood. “Not just the Times. Every paper has you on the front page. And every newsstand has your picture plastered on the front.” Chambers grabbed me and kissed my cheek. “A hero. That’s what you are. Of course, this will ruin your undercover work, with your face plastered all over town. Doesn’t matter though, you did good. And by the way, what was the name of that garbage you wanted to eat?”
“It was mezzaluna, Lieu. Half-moon ravioli. But don’t worry. I’ll have plenty when I get out.” As I laughed, reality struck.
Dominic. He’s the one who did this. I looked at Chambers. “Captain approve of this?”
“No, but he’s got to love it. One of our own being front-page material.”
I nodded. The lieutenant was right. What could the captain say?
You clever old fox, Dominic. Thank you.
Chapter 6
Back on the Job
For three weeks I gorged on pasta, cheese, and my favorite pastries—all compliments of Uncle Zeppe—and I didn’t feel guilty even once…until I tried pulling my pants up over my hips. I swore I’d never miss another workout as I drove to work, but I stopped short of swearing off pasta. That would be carrying things too far.
I walked into the station sporting a slight limp, but I wore a Friday-night smile on my face and it was only Monday morning.
“Hey, Brad.” I waved to the desk sergeant as I passed.
Brad smiled, then whistled—loud, so everyone heard. “Gianelli’s back. Brooklyn’s own superwoman.”
Half a dozen people greeted me as “hero” before I got to the steps. It felt good. Not that I wanted the adulation, but it was better than a kick in the ass. People flocked over, patting my back, offering congratulations. After some idle chatter I managed to get to the second floor and into Lieutenant Chambers’ office. It wasn’t much more than a couple of cubicles surrounded by glass, but the privacy made it seem twice as big.
“Morning, boss.”
He got out of his chair and greeted me. “How’s the leg?”
“Not bad. The worst part about getting shot is thinking it might happen again. And that’s crossed my mind a few times.”
“So you’re good to go? You’re able to work?”
“They cleared me. I’m still a little gimpy, but other than that, okay.”
“I assume you’ve been watching the papers.”
“Yeah. I can’t believe it. They’ve been running with this, huh? Seems like every three or four days another article hits.” I stopped short of telling him I knew the reason why—that somebody in the newsrooms probably owed one of Uncle Dominic’s guys money—but Chambers didn’t need to know. Ignorance is bliss, and all that.
Chambers leaned forward, looked around, then whispered. “The publicity has been a good thing. IA was pushing hard for a suspension. I saved your badge, for now, but you’ll be on desk duty until the investigation is over.”
“Desk duty sucks, but I’ll take it to get them off my back.” I reached over and straightened his lampshade, then leaned forward. “Any news on the drugs?”
A frown appeared and he shook his head. “Nothing, but don’t lose faith. And don’t let your guard down. IA has got a real hard on for you. And not the good kind.”
“So where do I go?”
A serious expression crossed Chambers’ face. “First you need to see the captain. You have an appointment at 11:00.”
“Anything I should know beforehand?”
“Nothing you don’t already know. Watch your ass.”
I got up and headed toward the door. “Everybody else watches it. Guess I should too.”
I turned the knob on the door, but then shut it and faced Chambers. “Lieutenant, there’s something I need to talk about.”
His eyes narrowed. “What?”
“When IA asked about that call, the one to Dominic Mangini…that was me. I made the call on Sean’s phone.”
His palm hit hard on the desk. “Shit.”
I lowered my head. “I know. I planned on telling them, it’s just…”
He pointed his finger at me. “Don’t say a word. I mean it. Right now IA knows nothing. We’ll get this straightened out.”
“I hate putting you in this spot.”
“Don’t worry about me. I’m already screwed. Now get out of here and go see the captain.”
Eleven o’clock came far too early. I spent the time since leaving Chamber’s office, imagining the possible scenarios of how things would play out in the captain’s office, and each one seemed worse than the one before. I had sacrificed everything for this badge—my family, a great boyfriend, and any shot at a stable home life, not to mention having to put up with the hidden stares whenever I walked down the hall. I took a deep breath and sucked it up. There was no way I was losing what I had left.
No way.
As I approached the captain’s office, I put the cell phone—which they had given back to me—on vibrate, then stood in front of the admin’s desk. She ignored me while chatting to someone. It sounded like a personal call, which bothered the hell out of me. She could have at least nodded, or held up her hand to signal me.
When the young girl finished she looked up, a disinterested expression on her face. “May I help you?” she asked in a tone injected with forced politeness.
“Connie Gianelli. Here to see the captain.”
“Do you have an appointment?”
“I think it was for 11:00.”
She pretended to scan the page, then lifted her head and smiled. “I’ll tell the captain you’re here.”
I waited fifteen more minutes, feeling certain that was on purpose as he had no one come out of his office while I sat there. At 11:17, the admin announced that the captain would see me.
I followed her to his office. The captain stood, but never moved from behind the desk. His smile was as wide as his room—twice the size of Lieutenant Chambers’ and his voice dripped honey. He held his hand out, but didn’t lean forward to greet me.
“Connie. So good to see you. How’s the leg?” Captain Kyrokous had a heavy voice that didn’t match his small size. With the exception of dark stubble
on his chin, he looked like a man who should have owned a squeaky voice.
I was glad he called me “Connie.” That put me on alert. The captain called no one by their first name. I doubt if he addressed his wife that way. “Great, sir. Thanks for asking.” I put as much honey in my voice as he had.
“Have a seat.”
I got into a comfortable position. “The lieutenant said you wanted to see me?”
The captain’s smile disappeared fast. Too fast. “I did, yes. It’s about your role in the department.”
My role in the department. Instinct had me wanting to hold my breath, but I managed to get out, “Yes?”
Kyrokous twisted in his seat. Adjusted his tie. “This…incident has garnered a lot of attention, Connie. The reporters have been all over it.”
“Seems so, sir.”
“The department doesn’t think it’s healthy to focus on this, especially when we lost two officers.”
I leaned forward, then waited to make sure he was finished. “I agree, sir. It’s time to move on and get me back to work.”
The smile re-appeared as quickly as it had gone. “I’m glad you see it that way. I’d like to have a press conference now that you’re back and put this to rest.”
This was going far better than I imagined, which meant the hammer would drop soon. Uncle Dominic always said, ‘when things are going too good to be true, they are too good to be true.’
“Sounds good,” I said.
The captain reached into a folder, handily situated on the top of his desk. “I have the framework for a statement here that we…the department, feel would be appropriate.”
I took the paper from him and read it. “Sir, there isn’t much mention here of Sean and Jerry.” I leaned forward, resting my elbows on his desk. “This isn’t right, sir. I’m not trying to be a hero; they were the heroes.”
Silence sat between us for a moment, then Kyrokous spoke. “Gianelli, this is the position the department feels is appropriate. We need to heal, and there are rumors surrounding this whole affair, especially your partners. The sooner people forget that, the better it will be for everyone.”
A Bullet for Carlos Page 4
