Chapter 32
THIRTY-TWO
RACHEL
“Luciu, what an unexpected surprise,” I drawled as the door to the interviewing room slammed to a close behind me.
Luciu Valentini was more trouble than he was worth.
Not just because of his career choices, but because he had a face that was a gift from the devil himself.
The Valentinis were trouble—that was probably why I liked them.
I didn’t have to like my clients, didn’t even have to believe they were innocent, but the Valentini brothers amused me.
Custanzu and Luciu were troublemakers, but their journey was a different one. They weren’t actually born into this life; they chose it. I understood the need for vengeance. It didn’t eat into me like it did them, but their motivations made sense to me.
Their father was murdered by the old leaders of the Famiglia. How couldn’t I understand the need that had driven them to this point?
“The pleasure’s all mine, Rachel,” Luciu replied, getting to his feet like the gentleman he was.
He acted like he was born in the eighteen hundreds. Sometimes, I half-expected he’d bow or take my hand and kiss it like we were back in the olden days.
“I’ll bet.” I arched a brow at him as I placed my briefcase on the table. “I expect murder charges, Luciu. I expect intent to distribute or robbery charges. You pay me a fortune to wrangle you out of those situations.
"What I do not expect is to hear that you’re suspected of desecrating a cemetery, defacing a casket, and committing arson!”
That sinner’s mouth smiled at me. “I like to keep you on your toes.”
I huffed out a breath as I flipped through the paperwork the cops had given me. “They’re clearly trying to Capone you.”
He hummed. “Indeed. How long until you get me out?”
“They’re trying to throw the book at you,” I warned him. “I’d expect to spend the night in jail at least. They’re trying to delay the bail hearing.”
Rage flashed in his eyes. “Are you being serious?”
“I am.”
“That goddamn DA is going much too far this time.”
I rolled my eyes. “Whatever sick games you two play with each other are your own affair.”
“I grow tired of these games.”
“I heard she wants to resign.”
He grunted.
When he didn’t answer, I merely shook my head and asked, “Where were you on the night in question?”
“With a friend.”
“You have a girlfriend?”
He smirked at me. “Jealous, Rachel?”
“Oh, I can’t see straight for all the green in my eyes.”
His laughter was genuine. “This is why we work well together.”
“Why? Because I make you laugh or because I don’t fall for your Sicilian charm?”
“Both.”
I merely arched a brow as I asked, “Will this friend testify to that?”
“I don’t want her bothered with this.”
“We might have no alternative—”
“Business and pleasure do not mix, Rachel,” he ground out. “Understand?”
“I understand, but we might not have an alternative,” I repeated, my eyes freezing over just as his fired up.
This was why we worked well together.
When he exploded, I froze him out.
“Find an alternative. Set Stan on it.”
“That’s what I did. He was the one who called me.”
He grunted again. “I’ve been waiting here for hours.”
“Have they offered you refreshments? Allowed you to use the bathroom?”
“They gave me coffee, and no.”
“Do you need the bathroom?”
He nodded.
“Have you requested to go?”
“Yes. And they refused.”
Irritation surged inside me at that. “Can you hold it?”
“Se.”
“They wouldn’t let me see you immediately. I’ve been waiting outside. They’re holding their cards to their chest on this one. It’s a good thing you pay me a fortune to keep your ass out of jail, isn’t it?”
His fire disappeared, replaced with more of that charm that was sweeter than honey. Another woman would have melted in the face of it.
I wasn’t another woman.
“It truly is, Rachel,” he half-crooned.
But… I had to admit, he was different.
The honey was there. Cloying and thick, but it was…
I realized he hadn’t called me cara mia once. Only Rachel.
That was unusual.
My brow furrowed as I pondered that, but we were both prickly about personal matters so I didn’t push it.
As I studied him, I tried to figure out what he wasn’t saying.
As his lawyer, it was best if I didn’t know the full truth. My clients never told me whether they were innocent or guilty because, in all frankness, it didn’t matter. They paid me to defend them whether they’d committed the crime or not, but something wasn’t right here.
My mouth pursed as the door burst open and the detectives on his case walked in without warning.
The lack of respect and the number of protocols ignored were adding up.
As the detectives swaggered in, I stared at the first one and declared, “I hope you’re aware that you’re wasting both the police’s time and my client’s.”
“We’ll see about that,” he taunted as he twisted a chair around, straddled it, then pulled out a folder.
Retrieving a couple of photos, ones I’d already seen, he shoved them at Luciu while the other detective dealt with setting up the recording.
“Have you ever been to Green-Wood Cemetery?” he demanded once his colleague had completed the necessary steps to begin the interview.
“Has my client been to one of the most popular cemeteries in Brooklyn?” I tilted my head to the side. “Isn’t that like asking if he’s ever eaten a Big Mac?”
“The answer would be no,” Luciu intoned dryly. “Fast food doesn’t agree with me.”
The detective narrowed his eyes at me. “A vehicle belonging to your client was seen entering Green-Wood—”
“The vehicle was, I was informed, reported as stolen to a local precinct.” I reached into my briefcase. “Officers found the burned-out shell in New Jersey.”
“Whereabouts were you on the evening in question?”
“You don’t have to answer that, Luciu.”
He shot the cops a smile, and I settled in for a long, very tedious interrogation where the cops and I pranced around in a verbal chase where Luciu said very little and I repeated myself over and over.
With my eye on the clock, I waited until a full hour had passed before I commented, “Are you aware that giving a suspect refreshment then not allowing them to use the bathroom is tantamount to torture and can and will besmirch any statements that are made and that you come to rely upon in court?”
“What statement?” bit off the younger cop, Delaney. “Your client hasn’t said a goddamn thing.”
“I think he told you that he doesn’t eat junk food.”
"I'm okay with that being on the record," Luciu mocked.
The cop’s jaw clenched. “Appertaining to the case.”
“Appertaining to your case? What case? Your sole reason for arresting my client is that his vehicle, a vehicle that was reported as stolen and subsequently discovered by your colleagues, was spotted in the vicinity of Green-Wood Cemetery.”
The older cop, Hennessey, slammed to his feet. “You need the bathroom, Mr. Valentini?”
Luciu straightened which made the cuffs jangle. “Please.”
“Is it really necessary to cuff my client to the table like he’s a common criminal?”
“I hate to break it to you, lady, but that’s exactly what he is.”
“Mr. Valentini is a well-respected member of the community—”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Hennessey groused as he hauled Luciu out of the interrogation room.
I stared at Delaney. “You haven’t got a leg to stand on with this case. Your evidence makes conjecture look circumstantial."
“Unlucky for your client, that’s not what the DA says.”
Irritated by the cat and mouse games, I stated, “I’ll make arrangements for bail in the morning.”
As much as I’d negated the little Luciu had stated with my comfort break argument, I was also aware that the time to appeal for bail had passed.
“I’d like to speak with my client before you place him in holding.”
Delaney just grunted. “Stay here.”
Twenty minutes later, just when I was starting to wonder if the cop had forgotten my request, or if it was being ignored, Luciu returned. I explained the situation, and I empathized with his irritation at being held overnight.
“Do you want me to speak with Custanzu?”
He shook his head. “If bail wasn't made today, and I was charged, I know that a plan is already in play.”
Warily, I asked, “What is it?”
“Better if you don’t know. But when you get an emergency call, make sure they take me to Bellevue Hospital.”
I blinked. “Why? You won’t be able to visit—”
“Just do it, Rachel,” he interrupted before I could finish my sentence, and with a smirk, he told me, “Bail won’t be a problem.”
The door opened a scant second later and Luciu was guided out, leaving me wondering what the hell kind of plan was underway and if I even wanted to goddamn know.