Chapter 34
Chapter Thirty-Four
Dan cleared away the dishes from lunch, and by the time he returned to the table with the coffee, Gary still hadn’t moved. He sat with his water glass between his hands, rolling it slowly back and forth. Dan stood a few feet away, watching.
“If you don’t tell me what’s wrong, I may have to kill you,” Dan quipped.
Gary jerked his head in Dan’s direction. “Hmm?”
Dan sat beside him. “You’ve hardly said a word all morning. What’s on your mind?”
“All you have to do is touch me and you’ll probably have the answer to that question.”
Dan smiled. “It may interest you to know that I try not to do that where you’re concerned.
” When Gary frowned, Dan covered his hand, lacing their fingers.
“When we touch, I make a conscious effort not to open myself up to my gift. The only time I ignore this little rule―” He leaned in and kissed Gary on the lips.
“—is when we’re making love.” Another slow kiss.
“Being physically—and mentally—connected to you is mind-blowing.”
Gary’s pupils enlarged a little. “Maybe that explains why we spend so much time having sex.”
Dan knew the signs. “Before you get that let’s-go-to-bed look in your eyes, why don’t you tell me what’s wrong?”
Gary hesitated for a moment, then leaned back. “It’s this case.”
“The case we just solved?”
Gary’s mouth went down at the corners. “The more I think about it, the more convinced I become that it’s not going to be easy to convict Gianni.”
“Convicting him isn’t your job.”
“I agree, but for others to convict him, they’ll need evidence.”
Dan reached for the notepad and pen Gary had left on the table. “Okay, so what do we have? What’s our most damning evidence?”
“Bruno’s testimony. Gianni told him he’d killed Cheryl, and why. He also told us Gianni was behind the artwork heist at the museum. But it’s his word against Gianni’s.”
Dan made a note. “What else?”
“Chris Reed can place Gianni on the roof rafters with James Sebring. He heard them talking. Not only that, it seems likely Gianni was talking about Cheryl.” He sighed. “This assumes Chris is still alive when it comes to trial.”
Dan nodded. “My thought too.”
“And finally we have Frank Wyler, who might testify that Gianni asked him to put his hand up to the Kevin Donaldson murder.” Gary bit his lip. “I say might because he didn’t sound too happy about fingering Gianni the last time we spoke.”
Dan paused in his notes. “I think you’re overlooking something.”
“What’s that?”
“Think about what happened at the airport with Paul’s lawyer.
It seems as though Gianni doesn’t have Paul’s support in this.
So if he’s got Bruno against him, and Paul…
.” All Dan’s instincts were telling him one thing.
He smiled. “I have a feeling that once word gets out, the tide is going to turn. Maybe more witnesses will crawl out of the woodwork. And there’s something else.
The first artwork from the Isabella Stewart Gardner heist has been found.
All those people who bought the remaining twelve pieces may suddenly decide they’re too hot to handle now that the case will be back in the public eye.
Don’t forget, the FBI reward for information is, what, ten million dollars? ”
Gary chuckled. “Have I told you lately how much I love the way your mind works?”
“No, you haven’t. So maybe we need to rectify that.” Dan stood. “In bed.”
Gary followed him out of the room, still chuckling. “We can always make more coffee later.”
Monday August 6, 2018
8:30 a.m.
As soon as Gary walked into the department after roll call, he knew something was up. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but there was a trickle of electricity in the air, a buzz of excitement. He glanced at Dan and noted his alertness, the way he scanned their surroundings.
He feels it too.
Will Freeman’s eyes gleamed as Gary approached him. “Travers wants to see you two, ASAP.”
“Then we’d better not keep him waiting.” He dropped the bag containing their cinnamon rolls onto Will’s desk, then gave him a warning glare. “They’d better be there when we get back.”
Will guffawed. “Yeah. Good luck with that.”
Gary and Dan headed for Travers’s office. It was in its usual chaotic state, the desk buried beneath a mountain of paper, the air filled with the enticing aroma of freshly brewed coffee.
Travers beamed as they entered. “Good morning.”
Gary chuckled. “Someone got out of bed on the right side.”
“Trust me, you’ll be smiling too when you hear my news.
” Travers gestured to the two worn leather chairs facing the desk, and they sat.
“First thing this morning, we received an anonymous call. The caller suggested we might want to take a look at the case of Jason Phelps. And that wasn’t all he said.
” He handed a sheet of paper to Gary. “This is what we’ve turned up so far. ”
Gary scanned the first few lines. “A cold case murder from 1991?” Then he read lower down, and he gaped. “You have got to be kidding me.”
Travers nodded. “If any of what they claim can be substantiated, then this is dynamite. Not only that, it’s also the first real break in the Isabella Stewart Gardner case since 2003.”
“What happened in 2003?” Dan asked.
Travers sat, coffee cup in hand. “The FBI believed all the artwork was moved through several organized crime networks to Philadelphia. That was where the trail went cold in 2003, and there’s been nothing since.” He pointed to the sheet in Gary’s hand. “But if this turns out to be true….”
“Who is Jason Phelps?” Dan inquired.
“He was already a career criminal by the time he was killed in ’91,” Travers told him. “He’d been in prison for drug dealing in the mid-eighties.”
“And it definitely was murder?”
Travers chuckled. “I think two shots to the back of the head is pretty categorical, don’t you?
” He glanced at Gary. “I recommend interviewing Phelps’s sister, though.
If our mystery caller is correct and she’s still with us, she can support some of their claims.” Travers stared at them.
“Well? What are you waiting for? Get this all checked out before you interview Gianni DiFanetti.” He grinned.
“I may have to watch this one on camera. I want to see the look on his face.”
“You know he’s not going to admit to any of this,” Gary informed him.
“That doesn’t matter. What does matter is we might have found more nails for his coffin.” Travers’s face darkened. “Yes, it’s a case of innocent until proven guilty, but in his case, we know he’s guilty. Now we just need to prove it.”
Gary held up the sheet. “And this might be exactly what we need.”
It was a start, at any rate. And Travers was right. They had a lot to do before they walked into that interview room.
4:30 p.m.
Gary had assessed the situation correctly. Gianni was not talking.
He’d sat through the interview so far with a sullen expression, and every now and then he’d glanced at his appointed attorney, who’d intoned, “No comment,” at regular intervals.
Gary hadn’t missed the momentary frisson that had rippled through Gianni, however, when he’d learned his father had provided a lot of the information.
Gianni had to be feeling awfully lonely right then.
The door opened, and an officer entered. He handed Gary a piece of folded paper, then withdrew.
Gary opened it, doing his best to school his features as he read it. He showed it to Dan before meeting Gianni’s bored gaze. “Some interesting news.” Gary told him. “When the stock exchange opened this morning, your uncle sold all his shares in DFF group companies. Now why would he do that?”
Gianni’s eyes widened slightly; then he gave his attorney another glance.
“No comment.” Mr. Ellis shuffled his papers. “Does that conclude your evidence against my client?”
“Not quite.” Gary turned the page in his notepad. “We haven’t talked about the art heist at the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum yet. Are you familiar with this event, Mr. Ellis?”
“I recall reading about it, a long time ago.”
“Twenty-eight years ago, to be exact. March eighteenth, 1990. The stolen works have been valued at hundreds of millions of dollars by the FBI and art dealers.”
Mr. Ellis made an impatient noise. “I am aware you have charged my client with the theft of the artworks. I am also aware this comes from information given to you by his father. But if that is all you have to connect my client to this heist, then—”
“Not all,” Gary assured him. “But my story starts the week before the heist.” He consulted his notes. “Sunday, March eleventh, to be exact. An ex-drug dealer by the name of Jason Phelps went to visit his sister.”
“I fail to see what this has to do with my client.”
Gianni’s bored expression morphed into a look of faint alarm.
“Mr. Phelps told his older sister, Trish, that he had something big coming up, only he wasn’t sure if he was going to do it. At the time she thought he was referring to selling cocaine.”
“And?” Mr. Ellis tapped his pen on the table. “How does this connect to my client?”
“I spoke with Trish Adams this morning. She told me her brother used to work for your client. That he spent a lot of time at Gianni’s home in fact. I’m sure that can be corroborated.”
Mr. Ellis folded his arms.
Gianni stared at Gary.
“In February, 1991, eleven months after the art heist, Mr. Phelps was letting himself into his apartment in Lynn, Massachusetts, when an unknown assailant shot him twice in the back of the head. The lightbulb above the door had been removed. The crime remains unsolved to this day.”
Mr. Ellis arched his eyebrows. “Is this another cold case murder that you’re trying to pin on my client?”
“According to information we received today, just days before he died, Mr. Phelps was reportedly heard bragging about the fact that he had in his possession two of the stolen artworks, and that he’d hidden some more of them.
” Gary looked Gianni in the eye. “The informant also stated you were the one who shot Jason Phelps, and that they are willing to testify to that.”
Gianni paled. “No comment.”
Gary closed his notepad. “And now we’re done.” He gave a nod to the officer standing against the wall. “Mr. DiFanetti is ready to go back to his cell.” He glanced at Gianni. “Tomorrow morning, you’ll be taken to the Suffolk County Jail to await your trial.” He smiled. “See you in court.”
And with that, Gary walked slowly from the interview room, to be met by Dan and Travers.
Dan’s eyes shone. “You were awesome.”
Gary smiled. “You should have been in there with me. After all, you helped put him in that room.”
Dan shook his head. “My part in this case is done.”
Travers patted Gary on the shoulder. “Well done.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“When the media gets wind of this case, you two will be in the headlines again. Talk about a high-profile case.” Travers smiled. “Good start.”
It was the opening Gary had been hoping for. “I wanted to talk to you about that, but… could we go to your office?”
Travers blinked. “Sure.”
They filed through the hallways, and yet again Gary and Dan were greeted with comments and smiles from their coworkers, in stark contrast to the day they’d learned of Dan’s new role in the department.
Amazing how a little success can change people’s opinions.
They reached Travers’s office. Travers closed the door, and before Gary could speak, he got in first.
“I think I know what this is about. You want to find your brother’s killer.”
Gary stared at him. “You know about him?”
Travers’s expression was solemn. “Of course. I knew the day you walked into this precinct.”
Gary hastened to explain. “I’m not asking for his case to be investigated—he died in Springfield, Mass, not Boston—but I want permission to follow leads if any turn up.” He gestured to Dan. “If Dan helps with the case, that’s entirely possible.”
Travers rubbed his jaw. “Yes, I can agree to that.” He smiled. “You two work well together.”
Gary glanced at Dan. “I think we make a great team.”
Dan beamed. “I agree.”
Travers cocked his head. “Are you still living at Gary’s place?” Both Gary and Dan blinked, and Travers’s eyes twinkled. “Paperwork, gentlemen. Little things like mailing addresses.”
“Yes, he is,” Gary confirmed, his stomach clenching.
Travers nodded. “I don’t suppose he has any plans to move out. Just don’t let it interfere with your job.”
Gary stilled. “Sir?”
“You think I don’t know what goes on in this precinct? Who is seeing who?” He chuckled. “A mouse farts in the store cupboard and I get to know about it.”
Gary couldn’t get his mouth to work.
Travers met his gaze with arched eyebrows. “You expected intolerance?” Before Gary could respond, he took his wallet from the pocket of his jacket and removed a photo. He handed it to Gary, who studied it.
Two women smiled at the camera, their arms around each other’s waists.
Travers pointed to the figure on the left.
“That’s my daughter, Teresa, and her wife, Mandy.
” He replaced the photo in his wallet, then gave Gary a frank stare.
“Just be careful. I know Lewis was not the most tolerant officer, but there are others like him around here. Whether they’ll show their hand remains to be seen.
” He set his jaw. “But if they do, I’ll have something to say about it.
” Travers glanced at his watch. “But now you need to go home. You’re done for the day. ”
“We’re not going home,” Dan interjected. “Gary is taking me to dinner at our favorite restaurant.”
Gary had to laugh. “Oh I am, am I?” He felt light.
“Yes, you are.”
Travers laughed too. “Enjoy. I’ll see you both first thing tomorrow—when we’ll discuss your next case.”
They left his office, Gary’s head in a whirl.
What filled him was a welcome emotion. Hope.