That’s what I’ll do, I thought, but I had a funny feeling about it. On the way home I decided to call Bugs and see what he thought. He picked up immediately.
“Donovan.”
His voice sounded stressed, as if he expected bad news, like somebody waiting for a hospital call or something.
“Bugs, it’s me.”
A short pause, then, “Nicky, damn it’s good to hear your voice. How are things? You okay?”
“I’m fine. Just busting my balls trying to clear some dumb half-ass Irishman of a murder charge.”
“What’s up with that?”
“I can tell you that Donna hates me.”
“Who doesn’t she hate?”
“Okay, Bugs, here’s the rundown. The way I got it figured, Jack McDermott is the one who did Bobby in.”
“You know what? I swear to God I had him pegged in my top three suspects. Swear to God.”
“Yeah, well if you were still here, the list would have been longer.”
“What do you mean?”
“Bobby was into drugs, working for Doggs and—”
“Whoa. Holy shit, back up. Bobby into drugs? You mean selling?”
Before I could answer, he went on. “And with Doggs? You telling me Doggs is dealing?”
I empathized with the surprise in his voice. I felt the same way when I learned of it. “You heard right. Doggs is dealing and he had Bobby working. Nothing more than a scout, but working it.”
“So what happened?”
I filled him in on the details as I’d heard them from Jack then told him what Jack had said about the Mexicans. Told him the vibes I got from Monroe, too.
“Nicky, I know there are a lot of guys named Carlos, but if this is the one I’m thinking of, you need to watch your ass. Hang it up. Give the cops what you’ve got, and let them handle it.”
I listened silently.
“Are you hearing me, Nicky? I don’t want you involved in this anymore.”
“Why? What’s changed?”
“Carlos. This guy killed two cops up here, and more in Houston. He’s ruthless and he has an endless supply of money. Give what you’ve got to Borelli and let it go.” Another short pause, then, “You know I appreciate what you’ve done for me. I owe you, man. Big time.”
I smiled. “Friendship and honor, right Bugs?”
“Friendship and honor. Forever.”
After hanging up, I felt relieved. I didn’t want to kill anybody, had promised Angie I wouldn’t, and sure as shit, if I had continued with this someone was going to die—maybe me—and that was the last thing I wanted. At least I had a plan: gather up all my facts, take them to Borelli and wash my hands of the whole mess. Best of all, I had Frankie’s blessing.
I had been parked in front of my house for the last few minutes of the call, so I put the cell in my pocket and got out of the car then bounded up the steps. Rosa was waiting for me at the door.
“Dad, you’re not going to believe what I found out.” She was like a kid with a good report card.
“Then you better tell me,” I said as I walked over to give Angie a hug.
“Pete Borelli has been out of school for over two weeks, right? So Abbie’s sister, Emily, went to visit Pete’s sister last week, and guess what?” She stared at me, almost unable to restrain herself.
“I give up.”
“Pete is nowhere in the house. She passed by his room and he wasn’t there. He wasn’t in the basement or anywhere.”
I was about to say that’s it, but Rosa continued.
“And I found out from Monica that Pete hasn’t turned in homework since he’s been out, and, are you ready for this? He hasn’t posted to Facebook in two weeks! Either he’s in the hospital, or…I don’t know, but something’s strange.”
I nodded, forced to agree with her. Something was strange. I reached over and patted her on the back. “If all else fails, you’ll make a good detective.” I kissed her cheek. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”
“Did it help? I mean with your case?”
Angie’s scoff carried through the house. I looked over to catch the last of her head shakes. The mumbling I didn’t hear, but I could pretty much guess what it was, or the general idea of it, anyway. “You bet it helped. Now we better change the subject before your mother gets the spoon.”
I spent what little time I had left playing word games with Angie and Rosa, who both beat the pants off of me almost every time, but we had fun. It was one of the things I looked forward to. We designated one night a week as game night, and we played Boggle, Scrabble, and anagram games until somebody got too tired, usually Angie.
After they went to bed, I sat down to read, but soon closed the book. All I could think of was how to resolve this “so-called case.”
The news Rosa had given me wasn’t good. I made a note to check it out, but from the sounds of it, I couldn’t see a happy ending. Something was up. It could be as simple as Borelli’s wife leaving him, or it could be a lot worse. As of yet, I didn’t know what that could be. As I pondered the situation, the phone rang. I looked at the time—11:30—who the fuck is calling now? Caller ID was blocked.
“Fusco.”
“It’s Jack.”
I didn’t bother asking him if he knew what time it was; Jack wouldn’t care. “What have you got for me?”
“I know what’s wrong with Borelli.”
“Don’t make me guess, Jack. It’s late.”
“That fuckin’ Mexican got his kid.”
The news hit me hard, but as soon as Jack said it everything fit: the way Borelli acted when Rosa asked about his son, the way he was dogging this investigation, his hostility, all of it. “You sure?”
“Sure as shit. And what we talked about earlier—if you’re game, I’m in. I don’t give a shit about anything else. I’ll help you take this fuckin’ Mexican down.”
“From what I heard of this Carlos guy, it could get dangerous.”
Jack laughed. “You don’t know the half of it. It’ll be way past dangerous. Way past.”
“How am I supposed to trust you?”
“Because I hate these fucking Mexicans more than anything.” Jack lit a smoke and sucked on it hard, the way Bugs used to, the way he still did. I could hear it through the phone. “I’m tired, Nicky. Might as well go out with a bang.”
I thought fast, trying to determine what my next move was. It came to me more from instinct than anything else. “We’ll have to get the boy out, Jack.”
“We won’t get in without arranging a buy. These guys keep a tight watch.”
“That means we’ll need money.”
“A lot of money,” I said.
“Doggs has money.”
I heard Jack suck on that smoke again. “Doggs won’t give you a fucking nickel.”
I made up my mind about something else right then. “Doggs will give me whatever I want. Count on it.”
“All right, assuming you get the money, we still have to worry about Borelli.”
“What about him?”
“He’ll do anything so they don’t kill his boy. I think that wouldn’t stop at killing us.”
“Let me take care of Borelli. Your job is to figure out where the Mexicans are keeping his boy and how we can get in there.”
It was almost midnight before we hung up, and while not a late night for me, I did have to work tomorrow. As I climbed the stairs to the bedroom, my mind started racing again.
Why did it have to be his kid? Anything but a kid.
I thought about it for a long time. What could I do? I thought about calling Bugs back, but I already knew what he’d say—go to Borelli’s superior. But that would likely get his kid killed. After more deliberation, I realized my initial thoughts had been right—I had to see Borelli and find out what he knew. Maybe there was a way.
Not without killing someone.
CHAPTER 46
Lisa’s Chance
Brooklyn, New York
Lisa knew Tom was spirali
ng out of control and she was the only one left for him to vent his rage on. She had played her last card by giving him the detective’s name, hoping Tom would go after him and get caught, preferably killed. She figured if anyone could kill Tom, it would be Donovan. He had a dangerous sense about him.
Tom was busy watching porn on the TV, trying to get himself aroused again. Lisa quietly got out of bed and began dressing. She didn’t even have her panties on before he noticed.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“Getting dressed.”
“Stay like you are,” he said, and tapped his hand on the bed beside him. “Sit next to me.”
Lisa cringed, but she did as he said, taking the spot on the bed next to him. No sooner had she sat down than he put his hand between her legs and rubbed her. She closed her eyes, tried pretending she wasn’t there, but it didn’t work. All she could think of were the people he’d killed, and what he’d likely do to her once he got to Texas.
“Let’s have some fun,” Tom said.
Lisa smiled and lay back on the bed.
They screwed for a long time, him getting almost to climax then holding off, and her pushing him to the limit. “This is just like the old days,” she said. “I’m glad you got rid of that girl.”
“You didn’t seem glad at the time.”
“I was scared. That’s all.”
“You should have been. I had a hard time choosing which one of you to kill.”
“What? You had to even think about it?”
Tom got off of her and stood beside the bed. “I think about a lot of things. Like right now…you want to know what I’m thinking?”
Lisa smiled. “Sure, what are you thinking?”
Tom’s cruel smile returned. He leaned close and whispered. “I’m thinking that you made up all that about screwing that detective, hoping he’d kill me.”
“You’re crazy. He made me—”
Tom yanked her to her feet, then he hit her in the stomach so hard she fell to the floor gasping for breath. Tears welled in her eyes when his foot caught the side of her head, laying her out flat. “Don’t lie to me, girl. Hear me?”
Still fighting for breath, all Lisa could do was nod. He kicked her again, in the stomach, then on the side of her face. Blood poured from her mouth.
“Tom…don’t. Tom…”
He stood over her and raised his right foot, then stomped on her throat. He used a pillow to finish her off, then, just in case, he slit her throat before sitting back down to watch the movie. As he satisfied himself, he thought about Detective Frankie Donovan and how he’d have to kill him. After all, she might not have been lying. Tom couldn’t live with that.
CHAPTER 47
Let’s Buy Some Drugs
Wilmington, Delaware
I called Jimmy Borelli on my way to work and left him a message, marking it urgent. “Call me, Jimmy. We need to talk.”
Somewhere around three or four, Borelli called and we made plans to meet after work at Mrs. Robino’s. I thought it odd that he didn’t press for what I wanted, but he’d find out soon enough. The rest of the day went by fast and before I knew it I was turning on Union Street and parking the car. I was early, so I grabbed a quick water ice and nursed it while I waited for Jimmy. As I thought about how to play this, I decided I’d take it slow, see where it led.
Jimmy pulled up a few minutes later, got out of his car and tossed a smoke to the street. “What’s so important?”
I tossed what was left of my drink into a trash can and walked toward Mrs. Robino’s. “We can talk over dinner. I’m starved.”
I got us the table closest to the back and asked the hostess to hold off seating others by us as long as they could. “Cop business,” I said. “We don’t want to be disturbed.”
The waitress, who I now knew to be Tammy, brought us a bottle of wine and some bread. I asked for a few minutes before ordering. I tapped my glass to Jimmy’s. “Cent’ anni.”
“I don’t want to live a hundred years. Thirty-five, and I’m already wishing I were dead.” Despite what he said, he tapped my glass and drank.
I checked to be sure no one was listening, then leaned close. “Why are you so insistent on pinning Bobby’s murder on Frankie? You know he didn’t do it.”
“I happen to think differently.”
“What about the witnesses I told you about? The ones who saw somebody dump Bobby off the train? They’ll swear it wasn’t Bugs.”
He was silent, so I continued. “How about the money Bobby had in his account? You get anywhere with that?”
He shook his head. “Nothing yet, but I’m working on it.”
“And the people who say he owed money to the wrong crowd?”
“Didn’t pan out.”
“All right. Just checking.” I put a smoke in my mouth, twirling it, but never lit it. It felt good just being in there. One hell of a temptation though. “Before I forget, Rosa said to ask about your boy…Pete, isn’t it? Said she hadn’t seen him in a while.”
I noticed a sharp reaction, not a nice one. “She asked that the other night. Tell her Pete’s fine.”
“Yeah, I’ll tell her. So where’s he been? She said he hadn’t been in school for weeks.”
Borelli gritted his teeth and glared at me. “What’s with the questions about my kid? I said he’s fine.”
“So you said, but I don’t think you’re telling me everything.”
He got up from the table. From his posturing it looked as if he was ready to fight. “Lay off my kid, Fusco.”
Borelli was trembling. This was fear. Not anger—fear. “Jimmy, do they have your kid?”
“Fuck you. Don’t breathe a word.”
I put my hand on his arm and got him to sit. He was shaking. Tammy came by, but I signaled her away. I looked at Jimmy and felt a swell of pity; he looked like a beaten man. “Jimmy, if these fuckers have your boy, I can help.”
“Don’t even try it; they’ll kill him. Promise me you won’t try anything stupid. Think if it were Rosa.”
“I am thinking like that.” I leaned in close to him. “Trust me, when people like this take your kids, there can be no good outcome. You’ve got to take the initiative.”
He breathed deep, looked as if he would cry. “I promised his mother I wouldn’t put him in danger. I’ve got to trust that they’ll keep their word.”
“I’m going after him.”
“Don’t do it, Nicky. Promise me.”
I got up to leave, tossing a fifty on the table. “Eat some dinner, Jimmy. I’ll see you around.”
“Where are you going? Goddamnit, you better tell me.”
“I’m going to buy some drugs.”
I WAS MORE PISSED than ever now. I guess I’d known they had his kid going in, but to get the verification from Borelli sent me over the edge. I thought about the rules Johnny Muck had taught me. Rule number two, in particular: Murder has consequences. Johnny said to never let it get personal or it would have dire consequences.
It seemed like it took me a lifetime to decide, but it wasn’t. The decision had been made when Jack told me the Mexican had Borelli’s kid. There was no way I was letting that boy go to the slaughter; he was Rosa’s age. I nodded to no one, maybe just telling myself the choice was made. I had passed the point of no return. Now I knew people were getting killed, probably a lot of people, and I didn’t want to do that again.
Goddamnit, I promised Angie.
I turned left, went down Fourth Street then up to Monroe Street, parking where white people didn’t, but what the hell, I was here to make a statement and it was critical to get Monroe’s help. No way Jack and I could do it ourselves. As I got out of the car I saw DuPree and two of his henchmen waiting, wearing identical sneers.
“Good evening, gentlemen. I believe I have an appointment with the king.”
DuPree didn’t like me, but even he laughed at that. “You got guns on you, Rat? Don’t make me search you, because this time—”
“Not
carrying today. I promise.”
He started to search me then said “Fuck it. If he shoots me, I’ll shoot you before I die.”
When we reached him, Monroe greeted me with suspicion. “What’s up, Rat? Something must be or you wouldn’t be back so soon.”
“You need help, Monroe, and I’m here to give it to you. It’s going to cost you, though.”
After a moment of looking me up and down, he nodded. “I got your dago buddies holding the line at Dupont Street, and the PR’s at Second and Harrison—fuckin’ Ricans must have fifty people in one house—then I got Marx and his boys on the Prinz badgering my east side.” He tossed a beer can into a pile of them in a large container near the corner of the room. “So tell me, how’s Nicky the Rat going to help me?”
“Life’s tough, but there are always solutions.”
“Tough like you don’t know, ‘cause there’s also that Mexican trying to take over from everybody.”
“That’s what I came to help you with.”
Monroe looked at me and laughed. “The Mexican?” When my expression didn’t change, he laughed some more. “You’re one crazy fucker, Rat.”
“A couple of people have told me that.” I shot Monroe a look. “Can’t wait until Armageddon to decide. If you’re not in I’ll find somebody else.”
“You won’t get any muscle from your dago buddies, and the Puerto Ricans won’t go against them—”
“But Marx will. He’s eager to expand and I know he’s had his sights set on Washington Street for a long time.”
Monroe popped another beer. “Tell me what you got in mind. If I see it clear, I’m in.”
I filled Monroe in on the plan, telling him it had to go down the next night. “I’ll need three of your best guys. Make DuPree one of them.”
“I thought you didn’t like DuPree.”
I shook my head. “Don’t care one way or the other, but I know he’s eager to prove himself. He’ll do good.”
We went over the details one more time before I headed out. It was getting late, but I had one more stop to make.
I pulled into a parking spot about a block from Doggs’ place, rehearsing my plan before I went inside. The Whale greeted me when I went in. Patsy seemed to grow bigger every time I saw him.
Murder Has Consequences Page 27
