Page 11 of Power & Punishment

Little does he know he’s throwing away any money.

But I guess that doesn’t matter when it was never his to begin with.

5

MIA

“This is bullshit,” I snap under my breath before taking a seat. Apparently, Leo DeLuca is above the law, and my only suspect is now untouchable.

“You heard Captain,” Keith says, sitting at the desk opposite my own. “The commissioner doesn’t want us anywhere near him.”

I roll my eyes, tossing the case file on my desk. “That’s not entirely true. He said we need stronger evidence before we can bring him in. Which is bullshit because finding his valet ticket on our victim is pretty damning evidence.” And there’s the fact that Leo’s connected with the Carusos somehow. I just don’t know how.

“The wife and brother didn’t have much to say either,” Keith says, letting out the same frustrated sigh I feel gathering in my own lungs.

I bite my bottom lip, trying to conceal the guilt jabbing at my side.

Thankfully, I got out of those interviews, but I could’ve told Keith it was a lost cause. Russos didn’t spill easily. Even if they wanted justice for Vince, anything they told us could implicate them somehow, and they were smarter than that.

I spin my chair to face the large whiteboard posted up near our station. Vince’s mugshot from when he was eighteen stares blankly back at me. His face is solemn, but I can see all the warmth in his gaze. He wasn’t necessarily an upstanding citizen, but he was a good person. Someone who didn’t deserve to die like he did.

“I’m not giving up,” I declare, pushing myself to my feet. “I’ll be right back.”

“Esposito, I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” Keith warns, also getting up, but I ignore him and let my feet guide me into the captain’s office.

When I pass the threshold, Captain is sitting behind a sea of paperwork, trying to enjoy his coffee. He looks almost old under the fluorescent light, but you can’t tell unless you’re up close. His hair is gone, and his dark skin barely shows any wrinkles. The only giveaway is his beard, which is mostly all gray at this point. I’d like to think I’m responsible for most of those gray hairs.

“How did I know you’d be back for more, Esposito?” he grunts, clearing a spot on his desk for his coffee cup.

“I thought you hired me because you liked my tenacity?”

“True,” he mumbles, leaning back in his chair, “but I was hoping that tenacity would be focused on putting bad guys behind bars, not making my job harder.”

“Captain,” I begin, but it comes out as more of a plea.

“Stop, Esposito. I already know what you’re going to ask and I can’t allow it. My hands are tired unless you have new evidence.”

I throw my hands on my hips, trying not to let my shoulders slouch in disappointment. “How do you explain why my victim had Leo DeLuca’s valet ticket on him? That’s not a coincidence.”

“No,” he says, scrubbing his chin, “but here’s the weird part. I looked at the ticket and there wasn’t a license plate number or a name. All you had was the make and model, and you didn’t tell me how you were able to figure out it was his car.”

“We looked him up and he has that car registered under his name,” I say, trying to dodge the very logical question.

“You know that’s not how this works. We can’t build a case on a good guess. How did you know the car was his?”

I bite the inside of my cheek. “I heard a rumor that Councilman DeLuca frequented Ristorante Ottaviani and I know he’s the only one who can afford that type of ride.”

Complete and utter bullshit.

The captain stares at me, and I can tell he sees right through my lies, but thankfully he’s not in the mood to call me out. “And who did you hear this rumor from?”

I mash my lips together, feeling the thread slowly slip away. “I can’t say.”

“Of course you can’t,” he huffs, getting out of his chair. He towers over me, which made me feel extremely intimidated the first time we met. Now I know he’s just a big teddy bear. “I’m on your side here and I don’t doubt that there’s something going on with DeLuca. This isn’t the first time our city has dealt with a dirty politician, but we need to be smart. If you want to bring him in, you need cold, hard evidence. Something that not even the commissioner can argue against.”

I nod slowly, seeing the captain reach for a paper on his desk. “What if I can prove that he’s connected with the Carusos?” I ask.

“That would be a good start, but it’s not going to be easy,” he says, messing with the paper in his hand.