Chapter 39
CHAPTER
Around nine in the morning two days later, Sampson and I were parked in a dark blue utility van down the street from Valentine Rodolpho’s row house in Capitol Heights. Sampson lowered his binoculars. “Our boy Valentino’s sleeping in again. We didn’t need to be here so early.”
“Valentine,” I said, suppressing a yawn.
“Not to me, he isn’t,” Sampson said. He reached for his Styrofoam coffee cup while I shifted uncomfortably, trying to get my right leg to stop cramping.
We’d had our eye on the number three in Prince’s gang for days and he’d made no suspicious moves whatsoever.
He limped out once a day around ten, caught a taxi to La Coccinelle Café and Bakery, bought two cafés créoles and a large bag of beignets, then went home in another taxi.
The rest of the time he stayed in his house.
“Wish to hell we could get a wiretap on his place,” Sampson said.
“Pittman said zero chance of that for the time being.”
“I can dream, can’t I?”
“Donovan did say in her report that Rodolpho can be reclusive.”
“Looks like that leg gives him a lot of pain.”
“Baseball bat will do that to you.”
“That’s what he was beaten with?”
“Maria said that leg was broken in six—there he is.”
Clutching a black cane with a carved ivory handle, Valentine Rodolpho, a long, lean man, limped out onto his front porch and squinted at the late-fall sunlight. He rested his cane against the wall, zipped up his hoodie, slipped sunglasses on, and put a New York Yankees ball cap on his head.
“Follow or go downtown?” I asked when I saw a Yellow Cab slow to a stop in front of Rodolpho’s house.
“Follow.”
Prince’s cousin picked up his cane, limped down to the taxi, and got in.
Sampson trailed it loosely across the District line.
We knew where he was going, and John took a shortcut, so we were in the parking lot of the strip mall in Suitland–Silver Hill where La Coccinelle Café and Bakery was located before Rodolpho arrived.
The past two days, he’d gone in and out quickly. This morning, however, he stayed in the small café for nearly forty minutes.
“He spot us and ditch us?” I asked finally.
John’s eyes were closed. “I hope not, but one of us better go inside and check.”
“I’ll do it,” I said. I was reaching for the door handle when Rodolpho exited. He laughed and pivoted on the sidewalk to say something to a woman behind him.
I got my binoculars on them and was shocked to see the woman following the gangster was undercover officer Nancy Donovan. She was laughing too.
Rodolpho held out his arms and she cocked her head as if considering before sliding over to him and surrendering to his kiss.