Bossa Nova by Steven Henry

Author:Steven Henry
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Clickworks Press
Published: 2022-06-17T00:00:00+00:00

Erin, Piekarski, and Rolf set up camp in the hospital waiting room. While they waited to find out who was going to live through surgery, Erin and Piekarski checked in with their respective commanding officers. It was almost eleven when Erin called Webb.

“Start talking,” he said, sounding only a little groggy.

“O’Reilly here, sir,” she said.

“What did you get from Carlyle?” he asked.

It took Erin a second to remember Webb’s last orders before she’d left the Eightball that afternoon. It felt like days had passed.

“I actually ended up talking to SNEU,” she said.

“Okay, what did they get you?”

“I got a line on Matthew Madonna. Firelli knew him, so the two of us went to have a chat with him.”

“How’d it go?”

“Not great.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m at the hospital. Madonna’s in the ER. Not sure if he’s going to pull through.”

“Christ on the cross.” Erin could imagine the look on Webb’s face. “You shot him?”

“No!” she exclaimed, her voice loud enough that Piekarski turned toward her and raised an eyebrow. “A Mafia hit squad shot him,” she went on in a quieter voice, turning her back on the room and facing the window.

“You were in another shootout?”

“No, sir. The shooting happened while we were outside. It was all over by the time we got in. We’ve got two dead at the scene, two critically wounded, and Madonna’s son in custody. The kid’s not hurt.”

“Do you have positive ID on the shooters?”

“One of them. Remember Carlo, that foot soldier who was hanging around Vinnie Moreno during the Bianchi case?”

“Yeah. Didn’t we like him for Paulie Bianchi’s shooting?”

“That’s the guy,” Erin confirmed. “But we couldn’t prove anything. Besides, we handed that one off to the Feds.”

“Want to bet a certain Italian FBI agent is working that case?” Webb asked sourly.

“No bet, sir.” That thought had already crossed Erin’s mind. She took a deep breath and went on. “There’s some complications on this one. I can’t talk about them.”

“Not over the phone?”

“Not at all, sir.”

“I see.” Webb paused. Erin imagined him rubbing his temples the way he did when he was tired and frustrated. “Then I guess you’ve got another call to make, one I don’t need to know about.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Vic or I will get to the hospital as soon as possible. You at Bellevue?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Where was the shooting?”

“A bar in Little Italy called Lucia’s.”

“I assume the scene is secured?”

“Yes, sir. And make sure they check the fridge in the back room. I think there’s a dead guy in it.”

“Dead guy in the fridge. Copy that.” To Webb’s credit, he didn’t even sound surprised.

Then Erin stepped out of the waiting room. She needed a little more privacy for this next call. She couldn’t risk even Piekarski overhearing it. She took out her other phone, a prepaid burner cell with only one contact in it, and called the number.

It took three rings, but the man who answered sounded awake and alert. “Everything okay?” he asked with no preamble.

“Yeah,” she said. “I’m fine. But we need to talk.

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