20. Aria
Chapter twenty
Aria
I’ve never seen Elio look so dejected.
He sits across from me, his elbows braced on his knees, head hanging low. The document I handed over to him lies on the desk between us.
His fingers rake through his disheveled hair, and I can hear the tight, uneven rhythm of his breathing. He hasn’t said a word since I handed it over, and he scanned through it.
“Elio,” I begin softly, but he doesn’t look up at me. His shoulders are stiff, tension rolling off him in waves. I can truly not understand why this case bothers him so much, but I don’t remember ever seeing this ruthless mafia don in such a state. The room feels heavy with the weight of whatever’s going on in his head.
“Elio,” I try again. He cuts me off with a sharp shake of his head, finally lifting his face. His eyes are bloodshot, rimmed with dark circles under his eyes.
There’s a hollowness in his grim expression that makes my chest tighten. “What we need is a goddamn miracle,” he mutters, his voice raw.
Before I can respond, the door creaks open, and Cortez walks in. His sharp gaze sweeps over us, landing on the document for a brief second before moving back to Elio.
“ Capo , what’s going on?” Cortez asks, his tone cautious, as if he’s walked into the middle of something volatile.
Elio leans back in his chair, rubbing a hand over his face. “Nothing, Cortez. Just thinking about how much Henshaw’s death has ruined things for us. He’s the only man we’d have conveniently framed with Frank’s death, and now, there’s this…” Elio sweeps the document across the table to him with a wave of his hand. Cortez’s eyes run through it, then dart towards Elio with his lashes fluttering furiously.
“ Capo, come hai ottenuto questo (Boss, How did you get this)?”
Elio jerks his chin towards me, and Cortez follows his signal, locking his eyes with mine.
“If they’ve found a DNA match on this button, then it’s over,” Cortez whispers.
The document I brought in contains a single button from the culprit and most likely has his DNA on it. And if that DNA matches whatever DNA sample they already have, then they’re already onto Frank Paterson’s killer.
Still, I don’t know why Elio and Cortez are fretting about it. They even attempted to frame that Henshaw guy, whoever he was. Or did they kill Frank Paterson, too? Is that why they’re all riled up?
Shivers run down my spine as the realization hits me.
“Just look into Henshaw. Get me the CCTV footage…anything.” Elio’s voice cuts through the heavy silence in the air.
Cortez nods, turns away without another word and walks out of the room, the sound of his footsteps fading down the hall.
The silence that follows is suffocating. I shift in my seat, searching Elio’s face, trying to make sense of everything. “Why are you so involved in this case?” I ask finally, unable to keep the question bottled up any longer.
His laugh is low and humorless. “Because the NYPD made it my problem.” He doesn’t look at me as he speaks, his gaze fixed on some invisible spot on the floor. “They needed someone who could work outside the system, someone with the kind of connections they can’t admit to needing.”
“And what does that have to do with framing Henshaw?” I press, my voice softer now. “What was that about?”
This time, he raises his eyes to mine, his gaze dark and unflinching. “Because they framed my family first, Aria. They wanted someone to blame for Paterson’s murder, and they didn’t care who it was. Framing Henshaw was supposed to take them off my tail and buy me time to find out the truth.”
I stare at him, my mind spinning and pounding. The anger in his voice is sharp, but beneath it, there’s a rawness that oddly makes my stomach flip.
“This means that without Henshaw in the picture, they can now blame you again. You’ll remain the prime suspect…” A new realization suddenly hit me as I spoke. I could actually add this to a list of the incriminating evidence I’m gathering on Elio, that apart from being just a murderous bastard, he also sets people up to take the fall for his hideous crimes.
I’ll do everything I can to get myself involved in this case so I can find out more.
“Okay,” I say finally, releasing a sharp breath from my mouth and leaning forward. “Then let me help. I’ll look into Henshaw’s death. I have a friend who can help me.”
His eyes hold my gaze for a moment as if searching through mine. His brows are drawn together as if he wants to argue, but then he nods, a hint of relief softening the hard lines in his face. “Are you sure?”
My lips draw apart in a faint smile. “Yes. We have a deal, remember?”
***
My hands fumble with the buttons on my shirt for the umpteenth time as I rehearse what I’m going to say to Paul Hamper, the Assistant District Attorney.
I need either him or the DA to give me permission to help Samantha in the DA’s office on the topmost floor.
My fingers clamp around the doorknob, then turn it open.
He’s seated there behind his large desk, sipping a cup of coffee, with hundreds of files scattered on his desk.
“Good day, ADA Hamper.”
He doesn’t even raise his head to look at me. “Well, speak. What is it?” he snaps, shuffling through the files on his desk.
“Um...I was just wondering if I could help Samantha with the court records in the DA’s office,” I swallow hard, waiting for his response. When there is none, I continue, “I would really love to be of help, Sir…”
“To be of help, you say,” his face contorts into a smirk as he taps his pen on a file in front of him. “Listen here, young lady. You’re here to watch professionals do their job and fetch coffee. Don’t stick your neck where it doesn’t belong, and for the love of God, don’t get your inexperienced hands on any of those sensitive records...”
“But…”
“Understand?” The final air of authority his voice carries makes me bob my head up and down without further questioning. “Now get out.”
My hands fly to clutch my notepad to my chest as I make my way out of his office, which is as cold as the man himself.
Well, that went well! I think sarcastically to myself.
***
It didn’t occur to me that there would come a day like this when I would offer to take Dennis Finnegan to lunch.
He chose The Broadway Restaurant, one of the most expensive ones in New York. What can I say? Apart from finally getting an opportunity to walk into a place as fancy as this, I can have as much time with Dennis as I want alone.
And that means getting some answers, if not all the answers, to the millions of questions that have bugged my mind for the past few years.
Especially answers regarding Mario’s death.
“You don’t like seafood, I remember that,” Dennis says. The corners of my lips lift politely as he gulps down his second glass of champagne while we await the food.
“Well, I can always have something else.” My lashes flicker to hold his gaze briefly.
“This place is renowned for its excellent seafood. You should try it sometime. Maybe it would change your mind.”
I cannot stand the ugly sight of his crooked, slightly yellow teeth grinning at me, so I turn my attention away from him, taking in the beautiful ambiance of the restaurant.
A sigh escapes my lips as the waiter heads over to our table and sets a plate of seared scallops with lemon butter sauce in front of Dennis.
He rubs his palms together, his face spread out in a wide grin.
“Your roasted butternut squash soup doesn’t look less appetizing. I guess we’re both going to enjoy ourselves then.” A chuckle escapes his lips as he grabs the fish fork and delves right into the food.
My throat constricts as I struggle to swallow my irritation, knowing full well that I have to spend a great part of my day in this weird, annoying guy’s company. Grabbing the soup spoon, I dig into the hot soup, savoring its sweet, nutty taste.
“So tell me, the last time you were at my office, you wanted me to attend to you urgently. What was it about again?”
I was going to wait till we finished the first course, but since he’s bringing it up, I’m more than excited to indulge him.
“It was about my brother, Mario...” My fingers reach for a napkin, dabbing at the corners of my lips as he cuts in.
“Ah, yes. The one who was said to be mugged.” A large wrinkle creases his forehead as his brows furrow in concentration. “That case is not on the public docket. It’s sealed.”
“Yes, but why?” I set my soup spoon down and knit my hands together in a clasp, “Why was his case suddenly dismissed and swept under the carpet?”
His shoulders lift and drop in a swift movement. “To be honest, I don’t know. That case isn’t within my investigative jurisdiction…”
He raises his eyes to mine for the first time since he pounced on his food. “The only way is to request special clearance from my agency head to revive the case, which I don’t think they will grant me.”
“So what do I do? How do I find out who murdered Mario and make them pay?” The words find their way out of my mouth when I cannot even feel my lips move. I feel the tears starting to sting the back of my eyes as I lift my head to look into Dennis’s eyes.
“I…I don’t know. I think you have to let go, Aria.” He shakes his head from side to side, and his eyes dart away from holding mine. “I don’t know much about your brother, but I know he was a good man. And he would never have wanted for you to live like this, in agony for such a long time…”
My body jerks, and I find myself on my feet, tears streaming down my face.
“I have sacrificed my entire life for this. Taking dual-enrollment courses just to earn college credit in high school, carrying heavy course loads to hasten my progress, and going straight into law school after college just to get a chance to intern at the DA’s office…” Dennis opens his mouth to say something, but I shut him up with a shake of my head.
“All those sleepless nights studying, all the times I beat myself up for not being any good to my brother, now I have a chance, and you ask me to give up?”
My arm snakes out to grab my black bag beside the chair. “If you’re not going to help me, then I guess I’ll just do this on my own.”
His hand circles around my wrist as I go to walk away. “I’m sorry, please. Have a seat, and let’s talk about this.”
My lashes flicker at him for a moment, and then I lower myself back into the chair, wiping my nose with a tissue.
“I’ll help you. I’ll find a way, it’s just that there’s this case on my hands right now, but as soon as I’m done, I’ll try everything I can to obtain the required clearance so I can look into the case myself.”
“Thanks,” I breathe. Our eyes meet briefly again, but I dart mine away first, especially since I’m about to ask for another favor. Grabbing my spoon again, I slurp up some portion of the soup then clear my throat. “There’s something else I need from you.”
He raises a brow but nods his head to show he’s listening.
“There’s this case we’ve been assigned to, the victim died under suspicious circumstances, and I’ve been trying to find out how. I was wondering if you could grant me access to the footage from his house?” I blink my lashes at him hoping it’s having the irresistible effect it always has on him.
“What case is this?”
Leaning forward, my eyes scan briefly around the room before falling back on Dennis.
“It’s Donald Henshaw’s case. The ex-con who was jailed for killing his wife and son.”
His eyes widen with recognition as he grabs a glass of water, gulping it down his throat.
“Ah… Henshaw. Well, fortunately for you, my team is on that case as well, and we also didn’t rule out the option of murder, but…” he reaches into his briefcase for a document, “...the autopsy says otherwise. The death was actually natural.”
My lips curl in a small smile, encouraging him to pass the document over to me. When he does, my eyes run over the words swiftly, “So he had a heart attack? Naturally?”
Dennis nods, “The CCTV footage from his house was all clear. Nothing suspicious. The autopsy doesn’t point at foul play either.”
“Thank you so much.” My eyes flicker to meet his gaze. There’s a smile on his lips, as if he’s fascinated by the fact that I’m seated in front of him.
“Anytime, Aria, anytime.”
My fingers reach into my bag for my cell phone. Passing this news over to Elio would definitely convince him that I’ve been working to help him find the truth about Henshaw’s death.
Just confirmed Henshaw died a natural death from his autopsy. Then I hit the send button.
Dennis is saying something about the food again, but I pay no attention; my work here is done.
I wrap my fingers around the handle of my bag, fixing a polite smile on my face.
“I’m sorry, Dennis. I really have to run along now.”
He takes another sip from his water glass and nods at me.
“Let’s do this again.”
The smile on my face deepens as I stand up.
“And don’t worry about the bill. I’ve got it.”
I open my mouth in protest, especially since my soup is only half-eaten, but think against it immediately. Who knows? He might even come in handy sooner than I expected.
“Thank you so much, Dennis.”
Then I sashay away, feeling his eyes boring holes into my back.