fell on the floor. He stamped it out with his foot as he jabbed the down button of the driver’s side window. The car needed air. Even he thought it smelled foul.
Was there a possible connection between the Maglio deaths and this street murder? After all, she’d worked for Maglio’s firm, and it had been less than a week since the Maglios were killed. Ridiculous , he thought as he took a deep breath of the city’s stench. He laughed at himself and started the car’s engine. Getting as bad as Harrison , he thought.
C HAPTER IX
Mike Rosa was on the phone expressing extreme displeasure to Philadelphia DA Muriel Gates about not being immediately informed about Celia Lopez’s murder. He was hot under the collar, but controlled. She was a woman, and he respected women. It was part of his Catholic upbringing.
Gates knew she was being chastised although Rosa was choosing his words carefully. “I’m disappointed,” not “I’m really pissed”; and “You neglected” instead of “You failed.” She was not going to be treated like a child, nor was she going to be intimidated by a man. And she was certainly not going to apologize to Rosa or anyone else. This murder was hers. It was in her jurisdiction, over which she had complete control, control which she had rightfully earned. She was fifty-five years old—had been an assistant DA for twenty of those years—and chief of litigation for the last ten until she was elected district attorney. She had put hundreds of thugs, rapists, and murderers behind bars, and several on death row. They were all men. She knew all men were trouble, and she was not about to take crap from any man.
She was five feet, ten inches tall, weighed one hundred sixtyfive pounds, was well muscled, and had a black belt in karate. She was also gay, not ashamed but not out of the closet.
“Look, Rosa. I don’t have to explain anything to you. I don’t have to give you any information. You run the murders in your county and I’ll run the murders in mine. You do your job, I’ll do mine,” she said, nervously tapping a silver Tiffany pen on her desk.
“Muriel, I didn’t call you to be abused.” He wanted to say, “To be shit on,” but he didn’t. He was too much of a gentleman. “All I’m asking is that you keep me informed on the Lopez case.”
“Why?” she fired back. “Do you think there’s some tie-in with Maglio’s death? His was a suicide—this one’s a murder.
A drug-related hit. It’s just a coincidence that they were from the same office and that they’re both dead—that’s all…”
Theresa White, Gates’s secretary, brought in a cup of tea and a croissant. Gates waved her away. She was in no mood for breakfast.
Rosa interrupted. “Our investigation is continuing. This is a high-profile case…” He didn’t have a chance to finish the sentence.
“Maglio’s death was ruled a suicide by your own coroner. I respect Guy Wilkes as one of the best. Matching fingerprints on the weapon, all victim’s shot by the same weapon, around the same time. Powder burns on Maglio’s hand, a defective surveillance tape showing nothing.”
“All true, Muriel, but just as a courtesy I’d like copies of all your reports. Joe was my friend…” Rosa was now having difficulty controlling his temper. At this point she was getting to him. He began clearing his throat and counting backwards from ten. He glanced at the framed picture of his wife Helen and his three boys on the credenza to his right. It was a technique that helped lower his blood pressure. “Please, Muriel. I’m asking as a matter of professional courtesy.”
There was a momentary silence on the other end. Gates waved her secretary back to her and motioned to her to put the teapot on her desk. She liked it when men like Rosa said please . She laughed. “Rosa, you know how to play me. Just be nice to me, right?”
“As long as I’m not sitting opposite you in a courtroom, yes.” He strained to be
Was there a possible connection between the Maglio deaths and this street murder? After all, she’d worked for Maglio’s firm, and it had been less than a week since the Maglios were killed. Ridiculous , he thought as he took a deep breath of the city’s stench. He laughed at himself and started the car’s engine. Getting as bad as Harrison , he thought.
C HAPTER IX
Mike Rosa was on the phone expressing extreme displeasure to Philadelphia DA Muriel Gates about not being immediately informed about Celia Lopez’s murder. He was hot under the collar, but controlled. She was a woman, and he respected women. It was part of his Catholic upbringing.
Gates knew she was being chastised although Rosa was choosing his words carefully. “I’m disappointed,” not “I’m really pissed”; and “You neglected” instead of “You failed.” She was not going to be treated like a child, nor was she going to be intimidated by a man. And she was certainly not going to apologize to Rosa or anyone else. This murder was hers. It was in her jurisdiction, over which she had complete control, control which she had rightfully earned. She was fifty-five years old—had been an assistant DA for twenty of those years—and chief of litigation for the last ten until she was elected district attorney. She had put hundreds of thugs, rapists, and murderers behind bars, and several on death row. They were all men. She knew all men were trouble, and she was not about to take crap from any man.
She was five feet, ten inches tall, weighed one hundred sixtyfive pounds, was well muscled, and had a black belt in karate. She was also gay, not ashamed but not out of the closet.
“Look, Rosa. I don’t have to explain anything to you. I don’t have to give you any information. You run the murders in your county and I’ll run the murders in mine. You do your job, I’ll do mine,” she said, nervously tapping a silver Tiffany pen on her desk.
“Muriel, I didn’t call you to be abused.” He wanted to say, “To be shit on,” but he didn’t. He was too much of a gentleman. “All I’m asking is that you keep me informed on the Lopez case.”
“Why?” she fired back. “Do you think there’s some tie-in with Maglio’s death? His was a suicide—this one’s a murder.
A drug-related hit. It’s just a coincidence that they were from the same office and that they’re both dead—that’s all…”
Theresa White, Gates’s secretary, brought in a cup of tea and a croissant. Gates waved her away. She was in no mood for breakfast.
Rosa interrupted. “Our investigation is continuing. This is a high-profile case…” He didn’t have a chance to finish the sentence.
“Maglio’s death was ruled a suicide by your own coroner. I respect Guy Wilkes as one of the best. Matching fingerprints on the weapon, all victim’s shot by the same weapon, around the same time. Powder burns on Maglio’s hand, a defective surveillance tape showing nothing.”
“All true, Muriel, but just as a courtesy I’d like copies of all your reports. Joe was my friend…” Rosa was now having difficulty controlling his temper. At this point she was getting to him. He began clearing his throat and counting backwards from ten. He glanced at the framed picture of his wife Helen and his three boys on the credenza to his right. It was a technique that helped lower his blood pressure. “Please, Muriel. I’m asking as a matter of professional courtesy.”
There was a momentary silence on the other end. Gates waved her secretary back to her and motioned to her to put the teapot on her desk. She liked it when men like Rosa said please . She laughed. “Rosa, you know how to play me. Just be nice to me, right?”
“As long as I’m not sitting opposite you in a courtroom, yes.” He strained to be
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