MURDER TAKES TIME

Chapter 43

Happy Birthday, Tony

Brooklyn—20 Months Ago

Frankie drove through heavy traffic on his way in. Not abnormal, but when done every day, a person prayed for those miraculous days when, for some unexplainable reason, there were few people on the road. Today was not one of them. Morreau said he had a new assignment for Frankie. He was both excited and worried, especially now that Nicky was back. Officially Nicky was a union rep for the plumbers, but Frankie didn’t buy that for a minute. He didn’t want to know what Nicky really did, but he suspected it wasn’t good, and his hunches were usually on target. The problem was that his intuition got skewed when dealing with friends. 

A half an hour later, he pulled into the parking lot. Ted greeted him with raised eyebrows and a shake of the head. The kind of look that said, “I wouldn’t go up there if I were you.” Frankie nodded. What the hell was happening now?

He took the steps two at a time, as he always did, but his “good morning” to Carol was strained and unfriendly. 

Her eyes pointed to the ceiling as she whispered, “Top brass and Feds.”

Screw me. Despite the warning, he walked into Morreau’s office wearing a smile. “Morning, Lieutenant.” Frankie almost puked when he saw Harding sitting in a chair against the wall, a smug look on his face. Maddox sat next to him. Worse, though, was the sight of Captain Jamison. What is going on?

Morreau stood. “Detective, I believe you know Agents Harding and Maddox, and of course, Captain Jamison.”

Jamison was a wasp from way back, even had a pointed nose like a stinger to prove it. Frankie nodded. “Good to see you, Captain.”

Harding stood, eager to take the lead. The asshole’s personality was as stiff and inflexible as his name implied. “Good to see you again, Detective.”

Frankie knew it had irked Harding when he wouldn’t do what Harding wanted last time. Considering the captain was there, this looked to be revenge. “Agent Harding,” he said, as they shook hands.

Captain Jamison didn’t bother to stand. “Donovan, we’ve set up a special task force in conjunction with the FBI. Agent Harding has asked for you to be in on it.”

Harding wore a shit-eating grin. Even his eyes were laughing. “Welcome aboard, Detective Donovan.”

Frankie turned to Morreau. “What’s going on?”

Morreau looked upset, but he also looked defeated. “Officially, you’ll be assigned to homicide, but you’ll be working with Agent Harding and Agent Maddox.”

The hair on the back of Frankie’s neck tingled. “Doing what?”

“Organized Crime Unit, Detective. We’ll be putting bad guys away.”

Frankie stood a little straighter, shook his head. “Don’t want it.”

“Not your choice,” Morreau said. “It’s been decided. You have connections with key people in Tito Martelli’s organization, and we need Tito Martelli.”

The room was closing in on Frankie and he didn’t like it. If he agreed to work with them he’d be betraying his friends; if he declined, a desk assignment waited. “No way, Lieu.”

Jamison shot up from his seat. “Donovan.” He pulled out a folder. “Agent Harding has pictures of you meeting with men from Tito Martelli’s organization several times during the past six months. If you aren’t willing to help, I’ll be forced to wonder about your loyalty.”