by J. L. Abramo
“The second shooter is dead,” Samson said. “Ripley took him down in self-defense.”
“And Vincent?”
“Bernie and Ripley are bringing him home. That’s all I’ll say for the now, because I hate repeating myself. We’ll all go over it together here at six.”
“Hating to repeat yourself is a big part of your appeal.”
“Tell that to my kids.”
“One other thing. I sort of promised John Cicero we would keep him informed,” Murphy said.
“Do you think we should call him in?”
“I’m worried about how he may react if we don’t.”
“Well, let me put it this way, do you think he’ll behave if we invite him to join us this evening?”
“I’m really not sure, Sam, it’s a crap shoot.”
“Give him a call,” Samson said.
EIGHT
Detective Marina Ivanov received the call from her mother just after two on Friday afternoon and rushed over to her parents’ house in Mill Basin.
Her mother, Natalie, greeted Marina at the door and led her back to the kitchen where Rachel sat at the table.
Marina could tell Rachel had been crying and she looked as if she had been hit by a truck. The left side of her sister’s face was deep purple.
“My God, Rachel, did Alex do that to you?”
“No, of course not, Alex would never hurt me,” Rachel said. “But when he sees me he will want to hurt someone. A lot.”
“Who did this?”
“A creep at the social club, the owner’s son. He shows up there almost every night bothering all the girls and they’re too afraid to say anything to his father. He’s been hitting on me for weeks. I kept telling him I have a boyfriend but he’s relentless. I would have quit long ago if the money was not so good.”
“What happened?” Marina asked.
“Last night after closing he cornered me on the way to my car. I pushed him off and then he punched me. Alex will go crazy and I can’t let him go over there, you know how violent the Russians can be.”
“Rachel, please,” her mother said. “Your father’s people are Russian.”
“No, Mother,” Marina said in Rachel’s defense. “Unfortunately some of these people are nothing like our grandparents—criminals who belong to a club that makes today’s Italian wise guys look like troublesome kids. So when you mess with one, you are messing with them all. When I was back at my old precinct even the police walked on eggshells down at Brighton Beach. I warned you about this, Rachel.”
“You did and I’m sorry I didn’t listen and I’m not going back. But that does not change the fact Alex won’t be hesitant to mess with one of them when he finds out. And he will find out. I refuse to lie to Alex, for any reason.”
“I wouldn’t ask you to,” Marina said. “I’ll talk to Alex. Can you get him over here?”
“I’ll call and ask him to come when he’s done at the bakery.”
“Good, try to relax, we’ll work it out,” Marina said. “Right now, I have to call the precinct and tell the captain I need to miss the meeting scheduled for later today.”
“You don’t have to do that for me, Marina.”
“Yes, little sister, I do.”
Senderowitz had the cab driver stop a block from the house, to avoid the risk of one of Vincent’s parents seeing him arrive with the two detectives. Bernie climbed out of the car with Vincent while Ripley remained to hold the taxi.
“Tell your folks you just heard about Angela, you had been at your girlfriend’s place for a few days, are you sure Alison will cover for you?”
“Positive,” Vincent said.
“Call work. Be very apologetic to your manager. He is not too happy with you but it would be a lot better for us if you can at least get in the door. I will speak to Bobby Hoyle and ask him to back up your claim the tape recorder never left the restaurant, if it comes to that. Do not leave your parents’ house until you hear from us, we will have someone watching the house around the clock. We will be in touch as soon as the captain and the other detectives in the squad decide how to proceed. Any questions?”
“No.”
“And are you going to do exactly as I said?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, go.”
Senderowitz stood for a minute and watched Vincent walk off before returning to the taxi.
“Sorry I made you wait, Ripley. I delegated once again, didn’t I?”
“Yes, partner, but who’s counting.”
“Where to now?” the driver asked.
“Sixty-first Precinct,” Senderowitz said. “Do you know where it is?”
“Unfortunately,” the driver answered, “I know it very well.”
“It’s been almost three fucking days and you’re telling me to calm down.”
“You know how Heller works. If Donahue was having second thoughts, Bill would have reminded him of his options and would have given him time to decide to do the smart thing.”
“So why hasn’t Bill let us know?”
“That is also how Heller works. Bill prefers reporting in with good news. Not to mention you asked him to stay away from this office until the deal was done.”
“Did I say that?”
“You said that.”
“So I shouldn’t worry?”
“I didn’t say you shouldn’t worry, I just suggested you calm down.”
Senderowitz and Ripley arrived back at the Six-one shortly after five on Friday evening. Senderowitz pulled a plastic bag out of his jacket pocket and walked over to Kelly at the desk sergeant’s post.
“Do you have someone who can run this down to the ballistics lab right away?”
“I think I can dig someone up, what do you have?”
“A spent bullet from Chicago, I’m almost sure it will match the ones that killed Angela Salerno,” Senderowitz said. “I simply need confirmation, and I need it right away. Please have whoever takes it over say Chief Trenton gave it top priority.”
“Did he?” Kelly asked.
“What difference does that make?”
“Is Angela Salerno the girl killed two nights ago on her birthday?”
“Yes,” Senderowitz said.
“I’ll take it over myself.”
“Thanks.”
Senderowitz and Ripley climbed to the second floor and walked into the squad room. They found Richards, Murphy and Samson gathered around Murphy’s desk.
“Are you alright, Ripley?” Samson asked as soon as they came over.
“I’m good.”
“I only ask because I know what having to use deadly force is like.”
“I didn’t have much choice,” Ripley said. “And the good and bad of it is it wasn’t the first time.”
“Second day on the job and you’ve already chalked one up for the good guys,” Murphy said. “Are you bucking for a spot on my wall of fame?”
“Would you put me next to Bruce Willis?”
“You’ll probably need to talk with Internal Affairs,” Richards said.
“Don’t sweat IAB, Ripley,” Murphy said. “They think a bad cop is one who doesn’t live with his mother. No offense, Richards.”
“If you guys are done, I would like to see Bernie and Ripley in my office,” Samson said, just as Murphy’s cell phone rang.
He checked the caller ID.
Mendez.
“Bed Bath and Beyond, beyond department,” Murphy said and then after a moment, “he’s standing right here, hold on. Mendez for you, Sam, he claims you’re not answering your phone.”
“I can’t hear it from here.”
“He said he called your cell.”
“I can’t hear that from here either.”
“Doesn’t that defeat the purpose?”
“Let me have your phone, Tommy,” Samson said impatiently.
He exchanged a few words with Officer Mendez.
“Goddamnit.”
“What’s up?” Senderowitz asked.
&
nbsp; “Landis and Mendez are at the Marlboro Houses. A maintenance worker stumbled on a dead body in one of the boiler rooms. Shot. I need two of you to run down there. Rosen will be here at six. I can’t send her or Murphy, they’re the primaries on the Lake Street case. And Ivanov asked to be excused from the meeting this evening. She had personal family business so I cut her loose. Bernie, I’ll need you or Ripley to hurry over with Richards. Batman is already on his way.”
“I’ll go,” Ripley volunteered. “Bernie should stay. He knows the Salerno kid’s story much better than I do.”
“Good. It’s House Five, can you find it, Marty?”
“I think I know it, the closest to Stillwell Avenue,” Richards said. “I’ll look for the patrol car.”
Richards and Ripley grabbed what they needed and they headed out to the scene.
“Did you call Cicero, Tommy?”
“He’ll be here by six.”
“Let us know as soon as Rosen and Cicero arrive,” Samson said. “Bernie, let’s talk in my office.”
“Sam, this place is not Buckingham Palace, I am sure we’ll know when they get here. And as you pointed out I’m one of the primaries,” Murphy said. “Is there any reason why you can’t talk in front of me?”
“Just one, Tommy,” Samson answered. “Deniability.”
Rosen was thinking about Wednesday, spending the night at Murphy’s place. It was good. She had needed someone to make her feel like the world wasn’t one big catastrophe and being with Tommy had done the trick. But when he brought up the idea of living together, and not for the first time, she had felt a knot in her stomach.
It was not that she didn’t care for him. She cared for him very much. Loved him in fact. But she had made a mistake before, with a detective from her old precinct, and it had turned into a total disaster. Rosen had promised herself it would never happen again. Then along came this funny, goofy, tough, gentle, confident, troubled, adult-sized kid named Thomas Murphy.
Working with him in the field was not as problematic as she had feared when she accepted Samson’s invitation to join the Six-one. They were a good team, their skills and methods complimented each other. And their off-duty time together had been uncomplicated without being shallow. A walk in the park.
But a decision to cohabitate was a horse of an entirely different color, and having to make that decision was a dilemma.
Then Sandra thought of the birthday girl and the boy with a ring in his pocket who no longer had any choices to make and she felt guiltily thankful that, at least for the moment, what to do about Thomas Edward Murphy was her biggest problem.
Rosen walked into the squad room with six coffees in paper cups on a cardboard tray and a white paper bag of creamers, sugar packets and wood stirrers.
Murphy was alone in the room.
“You look good,” he said.
“Thank you. Where is everyone?” she asked, setting her bounty on Murphy’s desk. “Don’t we have a meeting in less than fifteen minutes?”
“Ripley and Richards pulled what looks to be a homicide at the Marlboro Projects. Ivanov is excused. Family business. Sam and Senderowitz are having a little powwow in the captain’s office.”
“Concerning?”
“Something Sam thinks I’d be better off not knowing about.”
“Do I have to drink all of this coffee myself?”
“Maybe not,” Murphy said, taking a cup from the tray. “John Cicero will be joining us.”
As if on cue, Detective Cicero walked into the squad room.
Murphy made the introductions.
“What’s new?” Cicero asked.
“I don’t really know. The captain was waiting until everyone got here before bringing us up to speed,” Murphy said.
“Is the coffee up for grabs?” Cicero asked.
“Help yourself,” Rosen said. “Take as many as you like.”
“That was Beck from ballistics,” Senderowitz said after taking the call.
“And?” Samson asked.
“He said it may not hold up in a courtroom without the gun handy, but he is convinced the bullet we brought back from Chicago matches those removed from the Salerno girl and Paul Gallo. Same caliber, same type gun, and he would be willing to bet the farm all from the same weapon.”
“That’s good enough, in terms of what we are looking to decide today.”
“I agree. And CPD has the weapon if we need it down the line. Wasko must have been very fond of his forty-four, holding on to it for so long.”
“We proceed with the assumption Gallo and Wasko were the two shooters on Lake Street, they were hired by someone and given carte blanche to find the tape. Now all we need to do is get whoever was behind it all to show his face.”
Samson peeked out from behind the window shade and confirmed Detectives Rosen and Cicero had arrived.
“We’re all here,” he said, taking the disc from his desk. “Grab the CD player. Let’s see if the others think we are brilliant or out of our minds.”
“Jesus, this poor bastard looks like he had a bad day at Guantanamo,” Richards said.
“I don’t know about Cuba,” the M.E. said, examining the victim, “but his bad day definitely wasn’t here, and it wasn’t today. He was dumped after he was killed. Watch where you walk, I’ll be with you in a minute.”
Richards and Ripley stepped back carefully and stood waiting.
Samson and the four detectives sat close to Murphy’s desk in chairs pulled from around the squad room.
Senderowitz had placed the CD player on the desk.
“Let me begin by welcoming John Cicero and thanking him for being here,” Samson said. “John, I am sure I speak for all of us when I say we are profoundly saddened by the brutal death of your son and Angela Salerno. We are all sympathetic to your personal loss and totally committed to finding all those responsible.”
“I’m glad you included me,” Cicero said. “Unfortunately, I’m a pressed for time. I need to be back at Graziano Funeral Home by seven.”
“Then we will get right to it, I’ll hand the ball over to Bernie.”
“The man who assaulted us in Chicago was Lee Wasko. He was a known enforcer-for-hire. We are stipulating the following with great confidence. Lee Wasko and Paul Gallo went to the house on Lake Street searching for Vincent Salerno with the belief Salerno had a tape recording they needed to retrieve. Wasko and Gallo shot Angela Salerno and Edward Cicero after they could offer no help in locating Vincent. Wasko shot and killed Gallo sometime after. Wasko went to Chicago following the same lead we had as to Vincent’s possible whereabouts and he was killed by Ripley in a gunfire exchange.”
“So both of the alleged Lake Street shooters are dead, and as useful for questioning as Lee Harvey Oswald,” Murphy said. “Where does that leave us?”
“With the recording,” Bernie said, and he put the disc into the CD player.
Donahue: Kevin Donahue.
Unknown: Good afternoon, Mr. Donahue.
Donahue: Are you crazy? I told you never to call me here. And why are you calling at all, our business is done.
Unknown: I need two hundred thousand dollars.
Donahue: You already got two hundred grand.
Unknown: My needs have changed. I saved you at least twenty times that amount and a good deal of bad publicity. I don’t feel as if a ten percent commission is asking too much.
Donahue: We had a deal. I don’t know what world you bureaucrats live in, but where I come from a deal is a deal.
Unknown: Spare me the lecture on business ethics, Mr. Donahue.
Donahue: Why should I give you another dime?
Unknown: Because just as easily as I made incriminating evidence disappear, I can make it miraculously appear again. We are talking about a scandal that could severely damage reputations and hurt the city. Working together to keep New York City great should be our most pressing concern. Consider my request for additional funds a contribution to that effort.
Donahue: Save
the stump speeches. My biggest concern is how long you will continue to milk me.
Unknown: Satisfy this request and you will never hear from me again.
Donahue: What if I decide I would rather face the consequences than trust you again? I can just as easily throw you to the dogs. It wouldn’t take any more than a suggestion of impropriety to derail you.
(End of tape recording.)
“What’s his name, Rachel?”
“Alex, please calm down, I’m alright.”
They were sitting in the living room. The girls’ mother was preparing dinner in the kitchen.
“What is his name?”
“Alex, I said I would take care of it. I know you’re angry, but so am I. She’s my sister, I am not going to let some punk punch my sister in the face and get away with it,” Marina said. “I will go down there tomorrow, in daylight, with backup, and we will find him and take him in for assault.”
“I want to hurt the son-of-a-bitch.”
“I understand, but if you go down there all fired up you could wind up with an assault charge, or you could get hurt yourself. These people can be very nasty, let me do it my way.”
“Please, Alex,” Rachel said.
“Okay.”
“Promise you won’t do anything foolish,” Marina said.
“I said okay, Detective, but that bastard better pay.”
“Girls, would you please set the table,” their mother said, looking in from the kitchen. “Dinner is nearly ready and your father will be home any minute.”
“Okay, Mom,” Marina said.
“You are welcome to stay for dinner, Alex,” Natalie said.
“Thank you, Mrs. Ivanov, but I have more work to do back at the bakery. Cakes to be completed for an early pick-up tomorrow morning.”
Alex left, having to assure the sisters once again he would stay clear of the Lobnya Lounge.
Marina and Rachel began setting plates and dinnerware.
“Damn it,” Marina said. “Dad.”
“What about Dad?”
