by KT Roberts
“And I’m betting the farm on his involvement in a money laundering scheme?” Zach turned to walk out of the room and stopped mid-way. “I spoke to the prosecutor earlier and requested a warrant for a Forensic Accountant to check Sawyer’s books at the dealership and his personal accounts. Santini and Paige are checking on the wife’s life insurance policy. His mention of the economy killing him put one more nail in his coffin. I know he’s involved with the chop shop somehow, and I think that’s where the accountant will be a big help.” Harwell paused. “And I swear to God, if Jackson is the cop Sawyer has in his pocket, I’ll bring that bastard down to his knees.”
“I wonder how Lenny fits into all of this?” Jessie said, distracted by Zach’s voice on a call to the lab.
The lieutenant shrugged. “There could be a million reasons why Lenny’s dead, and a million people who wanted to kill him. He had a lot of enemies out there.”
“Okay, let’s call Tony; tell him we need to see him now,” Jessie said.
“Yeah, this is the last time. No holding back or his ass is in jail.”
Jessie dialed the number. His voicemail played. “Tony, Detective Kensington here. Gerard and I are on our way over to see you. We can do this one of two ways. We can come into the warehouse, or we can wait for you in the alley behind the building.” She snapped her phone shut and shook her head from side to side. “He’s not answering his cell.”
“Call his house phone, Jess. Let him know we’re on our way.”
She checked the file and keyed in the phone number. “Okay, something’s rotten in Denmark. There’s no answer at the house either. What do you want to do?”
“Go over to his house.”
Jessie looked at her partner. “Are you thinking the same thing I am?”
“I’m afraid so, Jess.”
Jessie vaguely remembered that Tony and his family lived in an apartment over top of a restaurant on Mulberry Street, in New York’s Little Italy. “Here’s 127 Mulberry,” Jessie said to her partner.
“How convenient that Tony lives close to Central Booking.” He chuckled. “I’ll park in the lot and we’ll walk back.” Zach found a space and they exited the car working their way back toward the restaurant. “Goddamn, that Italian food is making me hungry. It feels like I haven’t eaten in weeks,” Zach said.
“I was thinking the same thing.”
“Good, so we’ll come here for dinner tonight.”
“Zach,” she warned, “focus on Tony.”
“Yes ma’am,” he said with a salute.
“I’ll take the fire escape, you take the stairs. I don’t want this weasel going out the window when he sees you at the door.”
“Yep, I’m on it.” Jessie pulled the door open and the smell of Italian sauce hit her in the face. She inhaled deeply and tried to push the aroma away from her senses, but the growling of her stomach had other ideas. She took the stairs two at a time to the apartment door and rang the bell. There was no answer. Checking the door, she suddenly noticed it was slightly ajar. Jessie gave a push and entered. The apartment was bare; no furniture, no residents, no nothing. Just as she turned around to leave, Zach opened the bottom door and stood with his hands on his hips.
“Do you believe this?”
“I guess he wasn’t kidding when he said he was scared.” He pounded the wall with his fist. “We’re never going to solve this friggin’ case.”
She raised her brows and pulled her cell phone from her pocket and dialed the precinct. “Detective Kensington here, badge number 107, I need an APB out on Tony Ricci . . .”
19
“Dammit!” Zach said on their way back to the vehicle. “No Lenny, no Tony and I’ll bet Vito’s trailing close behind,” He released a frustrated breath. “I’m stopping at the drive-through for a burger,” he bellowed. “I’m starving.”
“What time do you think Vito quits work at the shop?”
“Forget it! I’m telling you, he’s gone too,” Zach said.
“You’re becoming a real pain in the butt with that negative attitude of yours. You know it?” she said entering the vehicle.
“I’m just saying.” Zach slipped in behind the steering wheel. “Do you want to drive?”
“Do I look like I want to drive?” she barked.
“Sounds like you have a bug up your butt. What’s going on?”
“Well maybe Vito is gone, but unlike you, I’m not ready to give up on finding the truth, dammit. Somebody up there knows something, and we’re going to find out who does.” He slowed the car down ready to make a right turn into McDonald’s.
“And as for food, I’m not having another high calorie burger. We’ll go to Lizzie’s and get a table where we can see Vito when he walks down the hill.”
He shot her a look. “Yes, ma’am,” he saluted again. “So, I guess that means you don’t have any plans for tonight. Is that right?”
“What does going to Lizzie’s have anything to do with whether I have plans for tonight? And what if I did?”
“You’d cancel them for me, right?” he said, trying to lighten her mood.
“Of course, Zach,” she snapped back. “You know I’m only here to please you.”
“Yeah, that’s kinda what I thought.” He reached for her hand. “I’m sorry I’ve been such a prick. I just want to catch this guy so bad, and I’m frustrated there are no good leads.”
“Like I’m not?”
“I know. Let’s just leave it at I’m sorry.”
“Okay.”
“Even though I get angry with you,” he said, “I do appreciate when you set me straight.”
“Yeah, I can tell.”
Tip Jackson was already sitting at the counter drinking coffee and flirting with the waitress when they entered Lizzie’s Diner. The waitress handed him a piece of paper, and he shoved it into his breast pocket.
“I’m amazed he’s all over town and not where he’s supposed to be. He must be book making. What do you think was on that piece of paper Blondie handed him?” Jessie asked.
“Shhhh,” Zach said, and gently shoved her toward the other side of the diner away from Jackson’s range of view. “Maybe it’s a good thing he is here. He hasn’t seen us yet, and I’m hoping to catch him in the act.”
“Act of what? Flirting?”
“No. I can’t shake the fact that he’s up to no good. I don’t have a good grasp on it yet. He was the first on the scene at the crime scene where Lenny was shot, and this afternoon, he just happens to be in the area when he’s not supposed to be on this side of town? It just doesn’t add up, Jessie. I wonder if he’s waiting for Vito too.”
The food no sooner arrived than Vito strolled down the street headed toward the subway. “There he is, Jessie,” Zach said, tossing the car keys on the table. “I’m going to catch up to him.” He took off like a bolt of lightning toward the subway. Jessie summoned the waitress and requested the food in take-out containers, paid the bill, and headed out to the car. Jackson never looked up. Her cell phone rang.
“No luck, Vito made me and took the first train that pulled up.”
Jessie sighed, shaking her head from side to side. “Okay, not much we can do about it except stake out the shop. I wouldn’t be a bit surprised if Vito abandons the place. Of course, he’s not thinking about his fingerprints being all over the joint.” She placed the containers in the back seat, got behind the steering wheel and headed in the direction of Zach.
Jessie spotted Zach walking back by the time she was able to get through the heavily congested area. He waved his hand when he saw her and stopped to wait for the car. He was panting from the unexpected run.
“You okay?” she asked.
“Yeah. I’d like to tell you I’m breathing like this because of you, but hell, I’m getting old.”
“You’re out of shape, hotshot. I think you need to start joining me at the gym.”
“Mmm, is that an invitation?”
“No. It’s a necessity.” She grinned. “Your
food is in the back seat.”
“Bless you. Thanks.” He twisted on his side and tried stretching his arm to reach for the containers without much success. He turned and knelt on the seat and grabbed both containers, then slid around and popped the lids. He carefully placed hers on the seat near his leg in hopes that her hand would touch him. He took a huge bite and chewed.
Jessie shoved a handful of fries in her mouth. He gave her a surprised side-glance.
“What?”
“I thought you didn’t want a high caloric lunch today. What do you think those fries are worth in calories?”
“Well, these were already cooked when you called, so I changed my order. I guess one more day isn’t going to matter.”
Zach resumed eating his burger. A drop of ketchup fell from his roll onto his white shirt. He reached for the napkin and tried wiping it. “Damn it. Now, I look like one of those fat, flat-footed cops who spill all kinds of shit on themselves.”
Jessie laughed. “Reach inside my case. There’s one of those bleaching pens.”
“You’re shitin’ me, right?”
“No.”
“How about that? She’s ‘Little Miss Domestication’. I really like that.”
Jessie barreled down the hall toward Zach and Harwell. “You are not going to believe who just called,” she said breathlessly.
“Try us,” Harwell said.
“Vito Lorenzano.”
“And?” Harwell said, his hand twirling in a circular motion, “what did he say?”
“He wants to talk about Sawyer.”
“Hot damn!” Zach said with effervescence. “Chalk another one up for our team. Where are we meeting him?”
“He wants us to meet him at six o’clock by the Vincent van Gogh exhibit in the Metropolitan Museum of Art.”
“Where?” his voice raised an octave.
“You heard me right.”
“You’ve got to be kidding.”
“No. And it was his idea. How about that?”
“I guess that’s the last place anyone would ever suspect he’d be.”
“I think that was the whole idea.”
“Good,” Harwell said, “get out of here and get his story.”
“Did you check the museum’s hours of operation?” Zach asked. “I think they close at five thirty tonight.”
“No, they’re open until nine o’clock on Friday’s and Saturday’s.”
“Oh crap,” Zach snapped his fingers. “I forgot it was Friday. I have a heavy date, but I guess I can reschedule it for tomorrow.”
Jessie looked away; a sudden sinking feeling attacked her insides. She wasn’t sure she liked the idea of him having a date. But then, they weren’t exclusive. She did tell him to forget about her.
“Are you okay?” Zach asked.
“Sure,” Jessie responded, nodding a little too vigorously, and exited out the back door of the precinct. “Why wouldn’t I be?” She gave him a brief side-glance and noticed a grin on his face. Resentment flooded through her like a wind-swept fire in a forest.
“I don’t see him, Jess,” Zach said standing next to the van Gogh exhibit. Jessie scanned the area with her eyes. Groups of people walked around with a docent whose presentation was so well rehearsed it sounded like a recording.
“I hope he didn’t crap out on us,” Zach said wryly.
“Here you go again.” She shook her head baffled by his attitude. “He’ll be here,” Jessie argued.
Zach removed his wallet from his back pocket, pulled out a twenty-dollar bill and waved it in her face. “Twenty bucks says he bailed.”
“You still haven’t learned, huh, hotshot. You’ll see.”
“Uh, I really hate to burst your bubble Jess, but I think you’re going to be disappointed.”
She gave him an arched brow and continued scanning the crowds. Jessie noticed a tall woman with long dark hair, dressed in jeans and a sweater viewing a work of art in the next room. The woman gradually made her way over beside Jessie to view the van Gogh exhibit. As the woman turned, her large handbag whacked Jessie in the arm. Jessie’s mouth took on an unpleasant twist, annoyed with the woman’s disregard for those standing close by.
“I beg your pardon,” Jessie countered with sarcasm until she recognized the woman as Vito.
“It’s me,” the familiar voice whispered.
Jessie grinned and snatched the twenty-dollar bill out of her partner’s hand. “Next time, hotshot, you’ll trust my judgment.”
20
“You can pull up right in front of this house,” Patrick Sawyer said to the cab driver. He paid his fare and slowly walked up the steps to Maria’s house. With his hand on the knob, he swallowed hard and pushed the door open, hoping he would be able to console his daughter when she heard the news about her mother.
Gabi sat, angelic-like, on the sofa in the living room watching her favorite show on television. Maria sat in a chair opposite the young child, a cup of coffee in her hand. They both turned when Patrick stood in front of them.
“Daddy, where have you been?” Gabi asked, running toward him. He leaned down to hug her.
“You know Daddy loves you more than anything in the whole world, don’t you?”
She gave him a strange look. “Of course I do, silly. I love you too.” She scanned his face, seeing eyes that were staring back at her with a blank look. “What’s wrong, Daddy?” Tears erupted and ran down her cheeks. “You’re scaring me.”
Patrick held Gabi in his arms tightly then placed her down on one of the upholstered chairs and knelt down in front of her. “I have something I need to tell you, pumpkin.”
“What?”
“It’s about your mother.”
“Yeah.”
“Your mother is missing, sweetheart.”
“Yeah, she’s in Ohio?”
He shook his head. “No, sweetie. No one knows where she is right now. I’m not even sure she made it to Ohio.”
Gabi began to wail and scream. “Then, where is she, Daddy? Is that why those detectives were here?”
“Yes, sweetie. I didn’t want to tell you until I was sure they were telling me the truth.”
“Daddy, let’s go home. Mommy won’t know where we are when she comes home.”
“The police won’t let us go home yet. They have to do an investigation first.”
“Why? What kind of investigation? Will they find Mommy?” she shouted hysterically.
“I don’t know, sweetheart, but if Mommy comes home, a police officer will be at the house to tell her where we are.”
“But what are they investigating? Maybe she’s at gram’s house, Daddy,” she said frantically. “Let’s call her.”
Maria moved closer and bent down to dry Gabi’s tears with his thumb. She held her while the child sobbed into her shoulder.
“What happened?” Maria mouthed.
He shrugged and made a face. “The police say Amanda’s missing, and right now, they don’t have any leads.” He smoothed his hand over Gabi’s shoulder while she was still embraced in Maria’s arms. She sobbed more vigorously, the tears rolling down her cheeks like an avalanche. His voice lowered. “They think someone broke into the house and did something to her.”
“But you saw her leave, didn’t you?” Maria asked.
“I did. I’m guessing whoever did this forced her to return home. The police said there were no signs of a forced entry, but the house is a mess. Amanda would never have left the house like that—she was a “neat freak.” He stood upright and paced back and forth. “I can’t believe this.”
He focused on Gabi who was visibly upset, then squatted down and hugged her again, this time whispering words of encouragement. He’d expected her to be upset, but this felt worse than he’d imagined—it was like a stake had been driven through his chest, and the life was being sucked right out of him. He caught his breath in the back of his throat and exhaled loudly.
Maria tilted her head toward Gabi and whispered a cautionary suggestion
to Patrick about halting the discussion in front of her. He nodded and sat back on his heels.
Gabi wrangled herself free from Maria’s hold and shouted. “Daddy, this is all your fault.” She pounded her fists against his chest. He wrapped his arms around the child to console her, but that only caused her anger to flare. “You never should have let Mommy go. I hate you, and I’m never going to forgive you.” She ran for the stairs and raced up to her room.
Maria stood to go after her, but Patrick pulled her back.
“It’s okay. She’s upset. Let her have a good cry. She’ll be okay.”
Gabi rushed into the bedroom, slamming the door, threw herself on the bed and cried into the bedspread. She wouldn’t believe her mother was gone for good. She just couldn’t. “Mommy, you have to come back home,” she shouted as though her mother could hear. She lay in the center of the bed trembling with fear, and wondering what was going to happen to her. She had always loved her father, but this was so confusing. “No,” she shouted, “I hate him. This is all his fault.”
A few seconds later, she slid down off the bed and got on bended knees to pray. “Please, God, let Mommy be okay.” Her stomach hurt. Her heart ached, and she was scared. “God, if I make a vow never to eat ice cream for the rest of my life, or ride my bike again, will you promise to bring Mommy back?” The tears rolled down her checks like a dam bursting. Gabi knew she was wishing for a miracle, but surely God would answer her prayers if she prayed hard enough. She wished she had her rosary beads, but she didn’t really need them in her hands because she knew the order of the prayers. Sister Mary Catherine made the class recite them every day.
Gabi closed her eyes, pictured the beads and began to say the rosary, but an image of her mother begging for help flashed through her mind. She felt like someone was trying to yank her heart right out of her chest. She rolled over into a sitting position, placed her face in her hands and sobbed. Bitterness welled inside her chest, aimed at her father. She’d never forgive her father if her mother didn’t come home. Her T-shirt was soaked from crying, but she didn’t care and wiped her nose on it anyway. She had to finish the rosary so God would know she was serious. She couldn’t give up hope.
