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“The evidence on all of the charges is overwhelming. The grand jury saw fit to file all of these charges against Salvatore Cannizzo and I trust that his reign of terror over the good people of Manhattan will finally be coming to an end,” she said outside the courthouse on the first day of her case-in-chief.
But something went wrong along the way. Accusations of jury tampering ran wild, and despite numerous requests from Elliot that the jury be replaced, Judge David Monaghan refused. When the verdict was returned after just two hours of jury deliberation, Cannizzo was convicted of one count of bankruptcy fraud due to misfiled paperwork, and sentenced by Judge Monaghan to six months in a white-collar prison.
As she stood on the courthouse steps, a visibly shaken Elliot seemed baffled and frustrated. “We had ample evidence that Sonny Cannizzo ordered the murders of three innocent civil servants. We can connect him to forty-five more murders across several decades, in multiple states. There was no justice in that courtroom today.”
Cannizzo’s only son, Sebastian ‘Angel’ Cannizzo, had a very different take on the trial’s outcome.
“My pop fought the good fight. He showed those assholes that you can’t fight the Cannizzos and win. In six months, we’ll see who is back on top.”
The FBI Director and Brooklyn Chief of Police could not be reached for comment.
I feel my blood pressure rising. What possible connection could Arie have to people like the Cannizzo crime family? Was she on the jury? Did she accept a bribe? My mind is racing with a thousand different possibilities, when I see another link, further down the page, and it makes me even more nervous.
Sebastian ‘Angel’ Cannizzo Arrested in Connection with OTB Attack
It hasn’t been a good year for the notorious Cannizzo family. Mere months after Sonny Cannizzo found himself sentenced to time in a federal, white collar prison, Sonny’s oldest child, Sebastian “Angel” Cannizzo, was arrested on suspicion of causing grievous bodily harm. The alleged attack took place at the off-track betting parlor owned by his family.
Ardin McManus, 24, of Newark, was stabbed repeatedly in what at first appeared to be a random attack at Barney O’Toole’s Pub and Grille, an OTB. McManus survived, and directed police to Angel Cannizzo, claiming that he had been stabbed as the result of a disagreement over missing funds. It was later revealed that McManus worked for Cannizzo at Barney O’Toole’s as an enforcer, and authorities believed that Cannizzo had accused McManus of stealing money from the pub.
However, according to reports, when police arrived at the pub to question suspects, despite the fact the pub was full at the time of the attack, no one saw anything. All of the security footage from the day of McManus’ stabbing had disappeared, and the bartender who had directly witnessed the event, one Juliette Stratford, had suddenly moved to an unknown country.
Detective Jonathan Holtz has stated that the police have no intention of dropping the case, but for the time being, they are at a stalemate with the Cannizzo family.
“These guys think they have the city by the balls. But we are going to take them down. One-by-one if we have to. But I swear on my mother’s grave, we’re going to get them.”
When reached for comment, Angel Cannizzo said, “Go f*&k yourself.”
Nothing about what I just read is surprising. A lot of mafia kids in the city get their start by taking over gambling empires, and it seems like this Angel guy is no different. But there is no way Arie would ever get involved with gambling. Her Uncle Sal was in Gamblers Anonymous thanks to years spent squandering what little money they had at the OTB on horse racing. Arie loathes gambling. I can’t even process the possibility that she would have lost money betting on anything. No; it has to be something else.
I’m just about to look up Angel Cannizzo specifically when there is a knock on my door. I close the laptop quickly and try to wipe any trace of guilt off of my face.
“Come in,” I whisper shout, in case Chloe is asleep. Arie pokes her head through a crack in the door.
“Can I come in for a second?”
I nod, and she tiptoes into my room, just far enough so that we technically occupying the same space. “My passport is on its way. A bike messenger should have it here in an hour or so. So, we can leave whenever you want.”
“How did you get your passport that quickly?”
She shrugs. “A friend was getting it together for me anyway and apparently, it arrived today. The timing just worked out. I’ll give it to you when it gets here, so you can book flights.”
I cross my arms and turn toward Arie. “You have a friend who can get you a passport on short notice? And then bike messenger it over to you in the middle of the night? But you have to work as a nanny for your ex-boyfriend to make ends meet?”
Her mouth opens and closes like a fish, and then she scowls. “He owed me a favor, and we’d ordered the passport a while ago. It’s not like I called up the US government, asked them to send me a passport, and they did it.”
I get up from the chair and cross over to her. Arie starts to inch away, but I put my arm up, blocking her exit. She shrinks a little at the closeness between us, but I don’t give her an inch. “Arie, we have a lot of history. I screwed things up, I was an asshole to you. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t know you like the back of my hand. That doesn’t mean I don’t know you now.”
I don’t know what comes over me, but I find myself leaning in even closer to her, until our faces are barely a breath away from each other. The tension is so thick I can practically reach out and touch it, and all I want to do is throw her down on my bed and fuck her the way she deserves, the way I should have that night all those years ago. Like she’s a queen, a goddess. But right before our lips can touch, before the tension can be released in any sort of meaningful way, she ducks under my arm and out into the hallway.
“You don’t know me now, Pierce. You think you know everything, everyone, just because you can read people now. But you don’t know anything.”
She heads down the hallway toward the guest room I’ve designated hers, but she turns right before she walks through the door. I think maybe she will change her mind, that she’ll come back and kiss me, admit she still feels the passion that exists between us.
“Let me know when the messenger gets here,” she says before going in the room and shutting the door.
My shoulders slump, and I’m left standing in the hallway, feeling like a complete ass.
Some things never change.
