Murder Takes Time (42 page)

Tilton tapped Frankie on the shoulder and nodded toward Mazzetti. “What’s he mean? You know the shooter?”

Frankie shook his head. “I know one of the suspects.”

“You plan on sharing, Detective?”

Frankie smiled. Already it had gone from
Donovan
to
detective
. “I’ll send the file, Tilton. We’ve got five now.”

“Five? How come we haven’t heard shit about this?”

Frankie figured he might as well be nice to this guy. It was probably the biggest crime he’d ever had. “FBI thinks there are ties to bigger fish.” Donovan looked around as if he’d said something wrong. “Probably shouldn’t have even told you that.”

Tilton was suddenly back on Frankie’s side again. “Goddamn FBI. Those bastards are always screwing up an investigation.”

“Tell me about it,” Frankie said. He gestured toward the body. “So what do you have on this guy? Any connections? Priors?”

“Not even a parking ticket.”

Frankie nodded.
He was a shooter, all right. And he must have been a good one to stay that clean.
He reached out his hand to Tilton. “Here’s my card. I’ll send you the files on what we’ve got. Let me know if you come up with anything. Especially if you get any witnesses.”

“You got it.”

A
S THEY DROVE BACK
to Brooklyn, Mazzetti changed the radio station about a hundred times. He was never satisfied with what was playing even if he liked the song.

“Hey, Lou, leave a song for just once, will you? I’ll listen to anything as long as it’s a whole song.”

Mazzetti ignored the question. “Why’d you leave so soon? We could have stayed a while to see what they get.”

“They’re not going to get anything, and you know it. It’ll be the same as the others—DNA out of our ass, but nothing to connect us to the killer.”

Frankie called the FBI to see what they had on Gianni Mucchiatto. He filled them in on the situation, then gave them Tilton’s number. Frankie hung up and turned to Lou. “His street name was Johnny Muck. FBI’s got nothing but suspicion on him.”

“Pretty name,” Lou said.

Frankie lit another cigarette. “I’m dropping you off at the station, Lou. I need to see if I can get anything out of Tony.”

“And you don’t want me coming?”

“He probably won’t tell me anything. With you there, he
definitely
wouldn’t.”

“You sure you’re not taking a cut from these guys?”

Frankie laughed. “You’ve been to my apartment.”

“Sorry.” Lou was quiet for a moment then turned to face Frankie. “If you ever crack that shell and want to talk to someone, let me know. Thirty years of marriage has made me an expert listener.”

“I’m surprised you’re not deaf.”

“What?”

“I said…fuck you, wise ass.”

Lou turned off the radio, something he never did without being threatened. “All shit aside, I’m a good listener, so if you need to talk sometime, I’ll even buy the drinks.”

“Thanks. I might actually take you up on that. Days like this make me want a friend.”

“Like I said, you name the time and place. Just don’t make it somewhere I got to climb steps.”

“You got it.”

Frankie let Mazzetti off at the station, then headed to Cataldi’s. He couldn’t get the picture of Johnny Muck out of his mind. When he got to the restaurant, he let them park the car, then went inside. “Tony here?”

“At his table.”

Frankie made his way there.

Tony got up to greet Frankie, arms open wide. “What a surprise, Bugs. Good to see you.”

“Not what you said last time we spoke.”

“You know how that goes. I was pissed off.”

Frankie said hi to Suit, then sat down. The waiter brought Frankie an espresso.

“What brings you, Bugs? You able to say?”

The last question was a reference to the wire. “I’m not wearing, Tony, but I
am
here officially. I came to see if you heard about Johnny Muck?”

Tony set his cup down, a puzzled look on his face. “Don’t know Johnny Muck.”

“How about you, Paulie? You know him?”

“Can’t say I do, Bugs. Why?”

“Guess it doesn’t matter, since you don’t know him.” Frankie took a bite of Paulie’s cannolo, sipped some espresso, then wiped his mouth. “But I’ll tell you this, if he was the last link between you and Gina, I’d leave town.” Frankie threw a twenty on the table. “See you guys…I hope.”

F
RANKIE HADN’T GOTTEN TO
the door when Tony was on the phone with Tito. He answered on the first ring. “Something happen to Johnny Muck?” Tony asked.

“I haven’t heard from him, but I wasn’t expecting to.” There was silence, then, “Not a good line to talk on. Come see me later.”

“All right. Later.”

Near the end of the day, Tony went to Tito’s. Manny answered the door and took him out back.

Tito looked nervous. “Something happened, all right. Johnny Muck was butchered.” Tito paced across the flagstone patio. “Jesus Christ, tell him, Manny. Tell him what he did.”

Tony looked to Manny, waiting.

“Tied him up and nailed him to the floor like he was Christ himself.” Manny made the sign of the cross when he said it.

“Tell it all, Manny. Tony’s a big boy.”

Manny shook his head and stared Tony in the eyes. “He drove nails through each hand, and another one right through his cheekbone and into his mouth.”

Tony grimaced. “Tito, we’ve got to do something.”

Manny shook his head. “I warned you about this. Remember that shit in WWII about sleeping giants? I think you woke one when you killed Gina.”

“He’s one guy, Manny.” But Tony said it without conviction.

“Tell that to Johnny Muck,” Manny said.

“Don’t worry. I’m gonna do something,” Tito said. “I’m gonna kill that fuck.” He threw his glass across the patio. “Get everybody here. We’re gonna find him.”

Tony analyzed the situation quickly. “I’m going home. I’ll get Paulie and the other guys on it too.”

Tito had a scowl on his face that looked painted on. “You do that, Tony. Let me know if you find anything.”

“Will do,” Tony said. “I’ll let myself out.”

Two blocks from Tito’s house, he dialed Frankie’s number. “Bugs, we need to talk.”

“Find out what happened to Johnny?”

“Where, Bugs?”

“Danny’s. One hour.”

B
UGS WAS AT THE
bar when Tony walked in. He was alone, which surprised Bugs. He felt sure that Paulie would be with him. “Long time, Tony.”

“Yeah, well, things change.”

“What have you got for me?”

Tony got a glass of wine, then looked around. “Let’s go where we can talk.”

They found an empty booth away from the crowd and sat. “What do you know about Johnny Muck?” Tony asked.

“I know he’s dead.”

“All off the record?” Tony asked.

“All of it.”

“Okay. Muck worked for all the families, but he owed his allegiance to Tito.” He paused while a young couple walked by their booth. “Muck was one of the best shooters ever.”

“So how did Nicky—”

“You won’t like hearing this, but Nicky was a shooter. Best one they ever had, according to Tito.”

“Are you fucking with me?”

“I wouldn’t be here if I were. He’s good, Bugs. And I need protection.”

Frankie slammed his fist on the table, drawing attention from other patrons. “That’s all I need, not only a crazy fuck, but a crazy fuck who’s a hit man.”

Bugs lit a smoke. “What else can you tell me?”

“You can’t smoke in here.”

“Fuck them, I’m a cop. Tell me what you know.”

Tony leaned over the table. “He’ll be coming for Tito for sure. Probably me, too.”

“And me,” Bugs said.

Tony’s brow wrinkled. “Why you?”

“He thinks I gave him up. He called me from Cleveland…” Suddenly Bugs turned red and stared at Tony. “It was
you
, wasn’t it? You tracked my calls when I gave you the heads-up about Tito.” His hands balled into fists. “You whore. Not only betrayed Nicky, but you used me to do it.” Bugs got up. “I’m glad Mamma Rosa is dead. She’d be ashamed.”

Tony stared at the table—wouldn’t look up. “You’ve got to help me. He’ll kill me if you don’t.”

“Yeah, well, there is that,” Frankie said, and walked out.

A
LL THE WAY HOME,
Frankie thought about how pissed he was at Tony. What the hell had happened to him? Of all the guys, he had figured Tony for the last one to give someone up or turn their back on them. But here he was, crawling on his belly, looking for salvation after what he’d done to Nicky.

Fuck him. I got enough to worry about.

When he got home, he went straight to the charts. He’d concluded on the way that his original assumption was right—Nicky would save Tony or Paulie for last, which meant that Tito was next. All efforts would be focused on Tito. He went to the chart of strategy, eyes scanning to the bottom, where he had written in large red letters—WHO’S NEXT?

Frankie froze. Dropped his pen. Right next to it, in equally large red letters was

YOU

He drew his gun and crouched. The apartment was small, but there were a few places he could hide. “Nicky. You here?”

After a minute, and comfortable that the living room was clear, he stood, then methodically cleared the rest of the apartment. Breathing heavily now, he went for his files, noticing immediately they’d been moved. Inside the first folder, a note stuck out of the corner.

Hi, Bugs.

Saw your stupid charts. You shouldn’t have done it, Bugs.

Remember, Friendship & Honor.

See you soon,

Your old friend.

Bugs ripped the note apart, then threw it across the room, pieces of paper falling to the floor. “Goddamn mother fucker.” He was as pissed as he’d ever been in his life, but more than that, he was scared, and he couldn’t shake the image of Johnny Muck’s face.

CHAPTER 66

BEGGING FOR HELP

Current Day

B
ugs woke early to get a good start and headed straight for the office. Morreau sometimes came in early to beat the rush. Bugs hoped it was one of those mornings. He got coffee and a cinnamon roll, then waited, doing paperwork until Morreau showed.

“What are you doing here so early, Donovan?”

“Need more surveillance.”

“Can’t do it. No chance.”

“This guy is going to kill someone else if we don’t stop him.”

“Get me some coffee. I’ll think about it.”

Frankie went to get coffee, taking plenty of time to let Morreau think about it. When he brought it back, he could see the news was good by the look on Morreau’s face “I’ll give you four guys for one week. If you don’t get him by then, I don’t give a shit who he kills.”

“Higgins and Sapp available?”

He nodded. “I’ll give you Murphy and Russo too.”

Frankie kissed Morreau on the head. “I love you for this, but I need more. I got Tito to watch, and now Tony Sannullo and Paulie Perlano, too.”

Morreau wiped his head off. “No matter how much you beg, you’re not getting anyone else. Now get out of here and catch somebody, will you?” As Frankie started to leave, Morreau called to him. “And tell Mazzetti to stop smoking in the building. Does he really think I don’t know who it is?”

“I’ll tell him, Lieu, but I think you know his answer.”

F
RANKIE HAD MET
H
ARDING’S
boss once—a guy named Clark, Gary Clark. The FBI had damn near dumped the surveillance, but Frankie knew they were dying to get Tito. He dialed Carol on his cell as he pulled out of the lot. “Hey, you sweet thing.”

“Cut the crap, Donovan. What do you want?”

“Need a number for Special Agent Gary Clark. He’s Harding’s boss.”

“Hang on.”

He turned left, heading toward the FBI Organized Crime Unit headquarters, and before he got two blocks, Carol had what he needed. “You owe me,” she said.

“I am forever in your debt.” Frankie hung up and dialed Clark. He didn’t speak to Clark, but got his assistant, and more importantly, an appointment in an hour with Agents Clark, Harding and Maddox. He grabbed a burger on the way and got to the meeting with almost fifteen minutes to spare.

When he entered Clark’s office, Harding and Maddox were already there. Maybe Brooklyn-cop early and FBI-early were two different things. “Agent Clark, Harding, Maddox, good to see you again.”

“What do you want?” Harding asked.

Clark glared at Harding, then turned to Frankie, all smiles. “Gloria said you mentioned Mr. Martelli in your message.”

“Yes, sir, Agent Clark. I think we can get Tito…with some help from the FBI.”

“Do you mean that the FBI can get Mr. Martelli with cooperation from Brooklyn Homicide?”

“That is
exactly
what I mean, sir.”

Harding brushed it off, looking disgusted. “Sir, Detective Donovan hasn’t delivered on one promise yet. We had him wired numerous times and never got anything. If you ask me, he leaked information.”