An hour later, Vinny read the last of Alfeo’s written words out loud and set down the paper. He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “Nothing.”
“Damn it.” Reed pushed back in his seat and stood, pacing to the window and back as his frustration grew.
“Like I said, he’s smart. Careful.” Vinny picked up the sheet of paper again. “I told you these weren’t going to do you any good.”
He scrubbed at his jaw. “Yeah, you did.”
“I can also tell that he’s only going to get more cautious the closer he gets to June.”
Reed stopped by his chair, too restless to sit down. “What does that mean?”
“I’ll bet you he’s stopped talking on the phone.”
“A couple months ago. He hasn’t made a call since.”
“And he won’t. He’s not gonna say anything to anyone that might get his ass in trouble.”
“But there might be something in the recordings we do have, right?”
“Could be. I know the Feds got all excited when they busted up the families with their RICO statutes all those years ago, but what you need to understand is that they taught everyone how to work smarter. The Caparellis have kept the organization small and sealed tight. Law enforcement hasn’t been able to get at them the way they have the other families because Alfeo’s suspicious—extra paranoid. I imagine he and Dino raised Matty to be the same way.”
“I want us to listen to the recordings,” Reed said.
“So, where are they?”
“Skylar’s working on getting them. Copying a file full of papers is one thing. Sneaking out recordings is entirely different.”
“Tell her to hurry. Time isn’t on my side.”
“I know. She’ll get them. And I’ll see what my informant can do as well.”
“I’m telling you, Alfeo’s going to button up and keep quiet. Matty knows what he needs to do for the time being—keep things running smoothly until his pops is out of a cell. It’s just a waiting game at this point.”
Reed sighed and looked at his watch. “I need to get out of here.” If he was lucky, he would get home before Bella was asleep. “Go ahead and keep these.” He gestured to the letters. “Read them over again if you want.”
“I’ll take care of it tomorrow. Let me know when you want to meet again.”
“You’ll be the first. I’ll text you when Skylar sends me what we need.” He gathered his laptop and walked to his truck, then drove to the discount store a couple of miles from Vinny’s house for a throwaway phone. Within minutes, he was back on the road and merging onto the 405. Tomorrow he would have to wire money out to Joey and pay him back for getting the ball rolling with the Caparelli Captain who’d kept him in the loop for the last five years. They needed to move this investigation along before Vinny couldn’t help them anymore. Swearing, he dialed Skylar.
“Special Agent Grayson.”
“I knew you’d be up.”
“Sleep is for the dead.”
“I need those recordings.”
“I’m working on it now.”
“There’s nothing in the letters.”
“You’re sure he’s being straight with you?”
“I’m positive. He wants Alfeo to stay right where he belongs.”
“I’ll have them to you by tomorrow morning—tomorrow afternoon at the latest.”
“I’ll be looking for them.”
“Keep an eye out for my text.” Skylar hung up.
He set down his phone, well-used to her abrupt endings, and focused on the road instead of his irritation that they were once again at a dead end. An hour later, he pulled into his driveway and hurried into his house, showering off the stink of Vinny’s place before he went next door. He walked quietly up the stairs and stopped in the doorway, staring at Bella asleep with a magazine open on her chest and the bedside lamp on.
Lucy stirred, giving a lazy thump of her tail.
“Hey, girl.” He petted her, then shut off the light as he set the copy of Cosmo on the side table before sliding into bed with Bella.
She rolled over and snuggled against him. “You’re home.”
He kissed the top of her head. “Go back to sleep.”
“I tried to wait up.”
“I know you did.” He wrapped his arms around her soft, warm body, needing the connection, wanting to feel her close to him, to breathe her in.
“I missed you.”
“I missed you too. Go back to sleep, Bella.”
“’Kay.”
He stared into the dark long after her breathing had grown deep, hoping that they were going to find what they needed and end this sooner rather than later.
Chapter Thirty-One
Reed sat across from Vinny at the small kitchen table, much like he had forty-eight hours ago, but tonight they were listening to Alfeo’s gritty smoker’s voice as he spoke to Dino Asante or Matty Caparelli on the prison telephone. Twenty-five years of recorded conversations was far less tedious to get through than the letters had been, but they weren’t making any progress with the investigation. Vinny had identified a few minor gimmicks—some gambling and bookmaking activities—but this certainly wasn’t their big break. Reed let his head fall back and scrubbed his hands over his face as Alfeo went on and on about getting a good haircut and a decent meatball sub when he got out in June.
“You getting bored?”
Reed sat up straight. “No, I’m getting pissed. What the hell is this—”
Vinny’s phone rang at his side, interrupting the beginnings of Reed’s rant. He glanced at the readout and held up his hand. “It’s Bella.”
Reed paused the recording.
“Hello?” Vinny smiled. “I’m doing fine. Watching a little TV. What are you up to? Huh. Never heard of that. Sounds nice. Yes, I’m drinking my juice.” He scrunched up his nose. “The ones I’m drinking now are fine. We don’t have to add more kale and spinach to the mix. You don’t have to come up. Make plans with Reed.” Vinny’s gaze met his. “How about Sunday, then? Your birthday’s soon.” He looked at Reed again. “I’m going to worry about it. Twenty-six is a big deal. We’ll talk about it when I see you on Sunday. Okay. I love you too. Bye.” He hung up.
Reed stood, needing a break. “Let’s take five.”
“She’s home by herself tonight. Said she’s cooking something called a galette.”
He paced to the window and back, restless. “Yeah. It’s like a pie without a top on it.”
Vinny raised his brow at him.
“What? That’s what she told me when I asked her about it this morning. She’s using a couple of different berries.” And he wished he was with her right now, helping Bella in the kitchen.
Vinny laced his fingers on the table. “Her birthday’s right around the corner.”
“I know.”
“You’re an old man compared to her.”
He frowned. “I’m thirty-one—almost thirty-two. It’s not that big a deal.”
“Old.”
“Didn’t you have two decades on Bella’s mother?”
Vinny bobbed his head from side to side. “Touché. You want kids?”
Reed shoved a hand through his hair. He liked it better when he was asking the questions. “Yeah. Someday.”
“What are you doing for my daughter’s special day?”
He leaned against the back of the recliner, crossing his arms. “I imagine she’ll want to spend it with you.”
“Probably. It’s the last we’ll get together.”
His heart hurt for Bella as he studied the sickly man whose clothes had long since gone baggy on his fragile frame. “So we’ll make sure it’s good. I’ve already picked something out for her.”
“She needs cupcakes—vanilla with pink frosting and purple sprinkles. Her mom used to make those for her.”
Reed nodded, making a mental note to take care of Vinny’s request.
“We’ll have a party for her on Sunday. Come up here with her.”
“Okay. I’ll get the cupcakes and bring them with us.” He stood and walked the half-dozen steps to the table, sitting down again. “Let’s finish this. I want to go home and help Bella eat the dessert she’s making.”
“You tell her you’re working?”
Bella thought he was picking up an extra shift to help Ethan out, but Tyson had taken over Sadie’s protection at one so he could get up here to Reseda. “I am, aren’t I?” He clenched his jaw and rubbed at the back of his neck, growing more uncomfortable with his half truths.
“The lying isn’t easy.”
“It used to be. Before Bella, I didn’t have any problems saying whatever needed to be said.”
Vinny stared at him. “Maybe you’re not such a bastard after all.”
He smiled. “I guess that’s a compliment.”
Vinny grinned and picked up his juice. “Let’s hear the rest of this bullshit.”
Tapping the mouse on his laptop, Reed sat back, listening to the last hour of Alfeo and Matty’s mindless chatter. He steamed out a breath, muttering a swear as he glanced at the screen, realizing there were only seven minutes and twenty-eight seconds left of their conversation. This was all there was. This was the last they would get, and they had nothing to work with.
“Dino’s looking into that thing with Chops,” Matty said.
Vinny and Reed both perked up, knowing that was the nickname Alfeo had given Nicoli Caparelli.
“And?” Alfeo asked.
“And I’m still waiting for more details.”
“I want to know when you have them. If Chops has got a chops of his own… Well, that’s something.”
Vinny rushed to his feet. “They know about Bella.”
Reed frowned. “What? How do you know?”
Vinny pointed to the screen. “He just said it.”
He struggled to keep his heart rate steady as he watched the color leave Vinny’s cheeks and the pulse pound in his throat. This was the first time he’d seen the man lose his cool. “Vinny—”
“They fucking know about Bella.”
He shook his head. “I don’t—”
“Play it back,” Vinny said, making a whirling motion with his finger.
He backed up the recording an entire minute, listening through the same exchange he heard moments ago.
“See? Right there.” Vinny pointed at the screen again. “‘If Chops has got a chops of his own.”
Reed let it play through, hanging on every word.
“It’s early stages yet, Pops,” Matty continued. “We’ll have to see what we see.”
“I like the idea. I like it a lot.”
Matty chuckled. “I should go. I’ll be back to see you next week.”
“Face-to-face. Without the glass. A father likes to hug his son.”
“Without the glass,” Matty assured him.
“See you soon.”
The conversation ended, and Vinny paced this time.
Reed played the conversation back through his mind as he watched Vinny stop by the windows, peek out the curtain, and move away. “It doesn’t sound like they know anything,” Reed said.
“The fact that they’re asking questions means they know something.” Vinny lit a cigarette and puffed deep—once, twice. “They fucking know something.’”
Reed glanced at the date of the last conversation. “The recording is from February twentieth. They don’t know about Bella, Vinny. Matty was sitting right next to her in Bensonhurst just a couple weeks ago. They wouldn’t have let her get on a plane back to LA if they knew who she was.”
“They know something,” Vinny repeated.
“How?”
He jerked his shoulders. “Beats the hell out of me. Walter must’ve said something.” He sat on the couch with a heavy thump. “That bastard opened his mouth.”
He still wasn’t seeing it the same way Vinny was. “Are you sure you’re not focusing on something that isn’t there? Walt was a good guy. Why would he say something when he’d kept quiet for so many years?”
“I’m positive. And who knows?”
“I’ll look into it.”
Vinny puffed out a plume of smoke and scoffed, “How are you gonna look into it?”
Reed grabbed his phone off the table and called Joey.
“Yeah, boss.”
“Hey. Do you remember the day you called me from Walt’s funeral telling me about Upshaw and Salada talking in the bedroom?”
“Yeah. How could I forget?”
He settled in the recliner close to Vinny. “What did they say?”
“You know what they said. They talked about tracking down Nicoli to check in on him. Walt was concerned with Alfeo’s release on the horizon.”
“Upshaw was at the diner with Walt when he died?”
“Fell over dead,” Joe reminded him.
“I need for you to find out what Upshaw and Walter discussed that day. Vinny’s thinking Walt might have said something about Bella.”
“Yeah, I’ll get right on that one, buddy.”
He felt his nostrils flair. “Joe—”
“How the fuck am I supposed to do that? I can’t just go up and ask. I was never supposed to hear that conversation in the first place.”
“Figure something out. I need this.”
“Okay. It’ll probably take a couple of days while I figure my angle.”
“Fine. Just get it as soon as you can.”
“You know I will.”
“Thanks. I’ll talk to you later.” He hung up, looking at Vinny. “Joe’s going to look into it.”
He pressed his fingers to his temple. “And that’s supposed to reassure me?”
“It reassures me.”
Vinny narrowed his eyes. “You’re taking this news real casual.”
He stood again, not liking Vinny’s insinuation. “I’d say I’m approaching it cautiously.”
He took a final puff on his cigarette and tamped it out in the full ashtray. “Do you know what they’ll do to that little girl if they find her?”
Reed swallowed, not even wanting to think about it. “We’re looking into this because you think there’s something worth looking into, but I worked with Walt, Vinny. He never mentioned you. Joe and I had no idea Bella was your daughter until I saw her hugging you on your front porch, and I’ve been obsessed with the Caparellis for a long damn time. Matty talked to her for several minutes in Brooklyn and let her live. I’ll call my informant later.” He walked to the table and glanced at his notes, reading the miserly bits of information they were able to come up with in regard to crimes discussed in the recordings. “At this point, I’m not all that concerned about Bella’s identity being revealed, but this”—he tapped the mostly empty legal pad—“this is shit. We need more. What do you have on your brother that’s going to keep him locked away?”
Vinny picked up his Bic and lit another cigarette. “Don’t you think I would tell you if I had something?”
“You have something. You have all kinds of things. You were a mafia bastard for the first thirty-nine years of your life. Letters and recordings didn’t get us anything. We can cross that off our list, so let’s talk murder. For decades, people disappeared. Who did the killing?”
“Me, on occasion. Dino if we were in a pinch. But mostly Alfeo. Almost always, it was Alfeo. He liked it. My father liked to use him to send a message directly from the Caparellis: you piss off a Caparelli, you die by a Caparelli. How the fuck’s that gonna help us now?”
It was going to help them plenty. “What did you do with the bodies?”
“Buried them.”
He nodded, grabbing the pad of paper and a pen, sitting in the recliner again. “How’d you do them?”
“A pop to the back of the head. Alfeo liked to get ’em in the forehead so they knew it was coming.”
“Where did you bury them?”
“In a big field. A couple other places too.”
“How?”
He frowned, exhaling another plume o
f smoke. “What do you mean, how?”
“Did you chop ’em up?”
He shook his head. “No. Most of the time we zipped them up and dropped them in a hole we dug.”
He frowned. “Zipped them up?”
“In body bags.”
“You weren’t worried about the cops?”
Vinny raised his brow. “We owned the fucking cops. Fucking dirty pigs.”
He bristled, thinking of his dad and Joey. “Not all of us are dirty.”
“No. But there were enough in those days that we didn’t worry much about getting locked up. It wasn’t until the Feds stepped in…”
Reed went back to the table and pulled up Google Maps. “You buried them in Brooklyn?”
“Some. Most.”
“How many?” Reed brought his computer over to the couch, sitting next to him.
“It’s hard to say. Maybe twenty—more like thirty.”
Reed’s eyes popped wide. “You and your brother killed thirty people?”
“No. I did six. Dino a couple. Alfie did the rest.”
“Where’d the cleanup teams take them?”
“We didn’t use cleanup teams. Alfie liked to bury them himself—take care of his own work from start to finish: order them to a sit-down, talk to ’em for a while, then blow their brains out. He got a hell of a kick out of them walking on eggshells, wondering if Alfie was gonna whack ’em or have a meeting. When he whacked ’em, which was most of the time, I helped him clean it up—usually Dino too. We buried them and moved on. Didn’t talk about it again.”
“So you’ve buried thirty bodies?”
“I guess so.”
He put the computer on Vinny’s lap. “Where?”
Vinny stared at the screen. “Who the hell knows on this thing? I hate computers.”
He zoomed in the map. “This is Brooklyn.”
Vinny squinted. “I haven’t been back since the Marshals took me out of there.”
He reached forward, grabbing Vinny’s glasses off the coffee table. “You buried them in Brooklyn, right?”
Vinny put them on. “Yeah.”
“So then they’re still there.”
“Yeah.”
“So let’s find them.”
“Everything looks so different.”
Deceiving Bella: Book Eleven In The Bodyguards Of L.A. County Series Page 34
