Read Online GUNNER (ALTON RHODE MYSTERIES Book 5) by Lawrence de Maria - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Lawrence de Maria
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in too deep with the shylocks.”
“You know any shylocks who will lay out 20 grand to hire an out-of-town hit man? Maples is no off-the-shelf gunny. He’s a pro’s pro. Whoever ordered the hit wanted the very best. And there’s something else. He was specifically told to make it look like a robbery gone bad. Nobody was looking to make a point or an example out of Panetta. They just wanted him dead. And they would have gotten away with it, except they used the wrong assassin.”
“Well, let’s say it is local, which at least gives us a working hypothesis.”
“Working hypothesis? You been talking to Alice?”
“Nah. Had to attend a seminar at One Police Plaza. Some crap the Commissioner set up. Anyway, if it’s local, we have to ask ourselves what’s so big that it justifies spending 20 grand to kill someone.”
I thought about that for a moment. Mac didn’t mind the pause. He nodded at my mostly untouched fries. I slid them across.
“The obvious thing is this big project in St. George,” I said. “We’re talking billions. But it’s hard to see how Panetta would be a threat to that. Everybody seems to be in favor of it. It has bipartisan support. The mayor and City Council wants it. Blovardi wants it. Both Yorke and the guy he’s running against, Mauriello, support it. Business and the unions are salivating about it, though a big sticking point is how much work will go to union labor. But they’ll work something out. Too many jobs are at stake.”
Mac pointed a French fry at me.
“Even the crazy liberal city councilwoman and her tree-hugger friends are for the plan,” he said. “Hell, the developers are throwing around so much money they don’t have to kill anyone. They could just buy them. I’ll sniff around, but it has to be something else. Maybe something in Panetta’s past.”
The waitress came back and we ordered coffee. Mac wanted to try the apple pie. It seemed like a good idea. I held up two fingers.
“You know I have to make my own run at Maples,” he said. “I can call in some favors with the Bureau. Maybe they can get a line on him.”
“Sure. I’ll even give you a description. But you’ll be spinning your wheels. Even if by some miracle you located him, it would be my word against his. I bet we couldn’t even prove he was ever on Staten Island, either for the murder or to eat my pizza.”
“Do you want to see the case file on the murder?”
I considered that.
“Is there anything in it that hasn’t been in the papers, or contradicts anything I just told you?”
“No.”
“Then what would be the point? Basically, we’re starting our own investigation, from scratch. With only one lead. The victim. Panetta. I’m going to talk to his neighbors and friends, if I can find any. He must have some old Army buddies. Find out where he lived before he came here. If you do the same, and sniff locally for anyone who might have wanted him dead, we may be able to shake something loose. How long do we have before you have to do your civic duty and report what Maples told me.”
“A week. Maybe two.”
“I appreciate this, Mac. I know you’re sticking your neck out.”
“Not the first time we’ve done it. In fact, it’s become a habit, for both of us. But let me ask you. Why do you want to be involved, Alt? I know it’s not for the money. You didn’t even want it.”
I thought about that long and hard before answering.
“Because one of my men asked me to.”
“Maples is a stone killer.”
“Probably always was, even when he was killing for me in the war. But he’s not as bad as the people who had him kill a Medal of Honor winner. And he wanted me to know that.”
***
After Mac went back to the D.A.’s office, I made a call and then drove to Silicone Valley, the local name for a two-block stretch in South Beach where most of Staten Island’s lap dance lounges are located and where natural breasts are rarer than parking spots on Saturday night. But it
“You know any shylocks who will lay out 20 grand to hire an out-of-town hit man? Maples is no off-the-shelf gunny. He’s a pro’s pro. Whoever ordered the hit wanted the very best. And there’s something else. He was specifically told to make it look like a robbery gone bad. Nobody was looking to make a point or an example out of Panetta. They just wanted him dead. And they would have gotten away with it, except they used the wrong assassin.”
“Well, let’s say it is local, which at least gives us a working hypothesis.”
“Working hypothesis? You been talking to Alice?”
“Nah. Had to attend a seminar at One Police Plaza. Some crap the Commissioner set up. Anyway, if it’s local, we have to ask ourselves what’s so big that it justifies spending 20 grand to kill someone.”
I thought about that for a moment. Mac didn’t mind the pause. He nodded at my mostly untouched fries. I slid them across.
“The obvious thing is this big project in St. George,” I said. “We’re talking billions. But it’s hard to see how Panetta would be a threat to that. Everybody seems to be in favor of it. It has bipartisan support. The mayor and City Council wants it. Blovardi wants it. Both Yorke and the guy he’s running against, Mauriello, support it. Business and the unions are salivating about it, though a big sticking point is how much work will go to union labor. But they’ll work something out. Too many jobs are at stake.”
Mac pointed a French fry at me.
“Even the crazy liberal city councilwoman and her tree-hugger friends are for the plan,” he said. “Hell, the developers are throwing around so much money they don’t have to kill anyone. They could just buy them. I’ll sniff around, but it has to be something else. Maybe something in Panetta’s past.”
The waitress came back and we ordered coffee. Mac wanted to try the apple pie. It seemed like a good idea. I held up two fingers.
“You know I have to make my own run at Maples,” he said. “I can call in some favors with the Bureau. Maybe they can get a line on him.”
“Sure. I’ll even give you a description. But you’ll be spinning your wheels. Even if by some miracle you located him, it would be my word against his. I bet we couldn’t even prove he was ever on Staten Island, either for the murder or to eat my pizza.”
“Do you want to see the case file on the murder?”
I considered that.
“Is there anything in it that hasn’t been in the papers, or contradicts anything I just told you?”
“No.”
“Then what would be the point? Basically, we’re starting our own investigation, from scratch. With only one lead. The victim. Panetta. I’m going to talk to his neighbors and friends, if I can find any. He must have some old Army buddies. Find out where he lived before he came here. If you do the same, and sniff locally for anyone who might have wanted him dead, we may be able to shake something loose. How long do we have before you have to do your civic duty and report what Maples told me.”
“A week. Maybe two.”
“I appreciate this, Mac. I know you’re sticking your neck out.”
“Not the first time we’ve done it. In fact, it’s become a habit, for both of us. But let me ask you. Why do you want to be involved, Alt? I know it’s not for the money. You didn’t even want it.”
I thought about that long and hard before answering.
“Because one of my men asked me to.”
“Maples is a stone killer.”
“Probably always was, even when he was killing for me in the war. But he’s not as bad as the people who had him kill a Medal of Honor winner. And he wanted me to know that.”
***
After Mac went back to the D.A.’s office, I made a call and then drove to Silicone Valley, the local name for a two-block stretch in South Beach where most of Staten Island’s lap dance lounges are located and where natural breasts are rarer than parking spots on Saturday night. But it
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