MURDER TAKES TIME

Chapter 39

DNA Doesn’t Lie

Brooklyn—Current Day

Frankie brushed the snow from his cashmere coat and kicked a dusting off his Moreschi shoes. Goddamn cold weather. He hated snow more than anything, even more than his Irish father and his Sicilian mother, both of whom scarred him for life. He should have gone to Miami or Houston, anyplace where it didn’t snow. 

He lit a smoke then sat on the stoop outside of Donnie Amato’s house, careful not to tear his pants. Frankie dreaded the thought of sitting on cold, rough concrete, but he’d have no more contamination of crime scenes. Kate would be there soon. He’d let her have the first look. Soon a car came down the block, pulling up to the curb at a crawl. 

Has to be Mazzetti. He drives like an old woman.

Lou Mazzetti moved up the sidewalk even slower than he’d pulled to the curb. 

“Hey, Lou, you got lead in your ass today?” 

Mazzetti took the last drag on a smoke before tossing it aside. “Didn’t figure Donnie was in any rush from what I heard.” He sat on the stoop next to Frankie. “Hit me with a smoke, Donovan.”

“You just threw one out.”

“Yeah, well, I’m old.”

“What the hell does that have to do with anything?”

“Us old people just don’t give a shit.” He held his hand out, waiting.

“Goddamn nuisance is what you are,” Frankie said, but he gave him a smoke.

Kate pulled up a few minutes later, popping out of the car with an exuberance difficult to imagine for a medical examiner—not an occupation Frankie associated with good moods.

“Good afternoon, gentlemen. Waiting for me?”

“Damn right,” Frankie said. “I’m not about to have my DNA on another scene without witnesses. If Morreau gets hold of that before I clear it…”

Kate stopped and looked at him. “Frankie, I have to turn it in, and the report goes out tomorrow.” 

Frankie shrugged. “If I get fired, I’ll make you feel bad.”

“You’re top shit,” Lou said, and used Frankie’s shoulder to raise himself up.

“When are you retiring?” Kate asked

“About a hundred years from now. Can’t afford to before then.” Lou offered a hand to Frankie.

“When I need you to help me up, just shoot me.”

“Be happy to,” Lou said, and walked in with Kate.

The odor hit them as soon as the door opened. “Jesus Christ,” Lou said, and ducked back outside.

Frankie turned back too. “Goddamn.” He held a handkerchief over his mouth and nose. “Kate, you alive in there?” 

“Sissies.”

“She’s right,” Lou said. “We’re pussies.”

Lou went in, holding his breath. Frankie followed, unwrapping the white silk scarf from his neck and using it to cover his mouth.

Kate was across the room, stooping to examine Donnie’s genital area. “Holding your breath will only help you for about a minute at best, boys. And if your lungs are as bad as I think, probably less. Might as well get it over with and take a long, deep breath.” After she said that, she inhaled deeply.