MURDER TAKES TIME

Chapter 29

 

Where Is the Evidence?

 

Brooklyn—Current Day

Lou Mazzetti climbed the stairs one at a time, each one a struggle. His right hand gripped the rail and each time he lifted his foot, he tugged himself forward and up. 

Frankie stood at the top of the steps, laughing. “Slow going, Lou?”

“Screw you, Donovan. They ought to put detectives on the first floor.”

“The higher the floor, the greater the power.”

“I don't care about power. I just want to get to work without having a heart attack.” He stopped at the top, panting.

“Quit smoking, and you won’t have to worry.”

“You won’t laugh so much when you have to carry me up these steps.”

“When that time comes, I’m getting a new partner. Won’t even think twice about it.”

“I thought you were aiming for one anyway.” 

“What are you talking about?”

“You know damn well what I’m talking about. You’re handing out descriptions of people to the waitresses at the diner as if we had a suspect.” He pointed an accusing finger at Frankie. “You’re still not sharing what you know, and it’s pissing me off.” 

“I’m going to get coffee,” Frankie said. “You coming?”

Mazzetti made his way into the door where Carol sat guard. “Hold Donovan’s calls, Carol. He’ll be busy all day, getting his ass kicked by me.”

After getting coffee, and making his morning rounds to say hi to everyone, Lou Mazzetti walked to the war room. The table, once covered with files, pictures, and notes, was cleared. Everything had been transferred to a large wall-to-wall poster board. Lou stared. A new chart showed the three people they talked to yesterday who “thought” they remembered a man in his thirties, medium height, dark hair, dark complexion. 

“All that legwork and we didn’t get shit.”

Frankie closed the door behind Mazzetti. “About yesterday, I—” 

Lou waved his hand at him. “Forget about it. Just tell me what we’ve got here.” 

Donovan smiled. “We’re catching shit. For some reason, Nino’s murder got the chief’s attention.”

“Anybody tell the chief this was just another guinea hoodlum?”

“Need I remind you that you’re a guinea?”

“Don’t exclude yourself; you’re just a dago hiding behind an Irish name. The difference is, we’re not hoodlums.”

We’re not hoodlums. Lou’s statement hit Frankie hard. If he wasn’t a hoodlum, he’d better start acting like a cop and go after whoever the hell was doing these killings. 

“No matter. The chief’s putting pressure on us.”

“Let’s get to work then,” Lou said, and as they reviewed the evidence, a call came in. Lou picked up the phone. “Mazzetti.”

“Where’s Donovan?”

He handed the phone to Frankie. “Kate.”

“Hey, Kate.”

“Got a new lead for you, Detective. A good one.”

“Don’t keep me in suspense.”

“It’s you.”

There was silence while he waited for the rest. When it didn’t come, he continued. “Me what?”

“A positive match on your DNA at the crime scenes for Renzo and Nino.”

“Funny, Kate. Now what did you want?”

“This is no shit. It’s taking a while to process this much DNA, but we got your evidence, and it’s not from innocent contamination. We have hairs found under the blood. Hairs that could not have come off you during the investigation.”

Frankie turned his head away from Lou and lowered his voice. “I’m sure there is a way to explain it. Figure it out.”

“I’ll do what I can, but I’m not covering up anything. And one more thing…”

“What?” A little hint of annoyance tainted his voice.

“The Renzo scene…you weren’t there. Remember? You weren’t called in until Nino.” 

Frankie didn’t say anything, but his mind churned. 

“So how did it get there?” Kate asked. “Tell me how your DNA got under the blood of Renzo Ciccarelli when you weren’t on the investigation.”

More silence from Frankie, then a whisper. “Kate, how about keeping this between us until—”

“Can’t do it.”

“Kate...”

She sighed. “For old times’ sake, you’ve got one week while I confirm the findings. That’s all. Goodbye, Detective.”

“Yeah, see you.” He hung up and stared blankly at the wall, his hand balling into a fist. “Lou, we need to refocus.”

“What did Kate want?”

“Nothing much, just told me about some bullshit evidence from the scene.” Frankie walked to the chart and pointed to the questions he had outlined. 

“Evidence,” Frankie said. “We need to find out where this guy is getting his evidence.”

When Lou went to get more coffee, Frankie threw the pen across the room, then kicked the chair into the table. Some prick was going out of the way to make Frankie look dirty. He intended to find out who.