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Gary followed him out of the room, still chuckling. “We can always make more coffee later.”
Monday August 6, 2018
8:30 a.m.
AS SOONas Gary walked into the department after roll call, he knew something was up. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but there was a trickle of electricity in the air, a buzz of excitement. He glanced at Dan and noted his alertness, the way he scanned their surroundings.
He feels it too.
Will Freeman’s eyes gleamed as Gary approached him. “Travers wants to see you two, ASAP.”
“Then we’d better not keep him waiting.” He dropped the bag containing their cinnamon rolls onto Will’s desk, then gave him a warning glare. “They’d better be there when we get back.”
Will guffawed. “Yeah. Good luck with that.”
Gary and Dan headed for Travers’s office. It was in its usual chaotic state, the desk buried beneath a mountain of paper, the air filled with the enticing aroma of freshly brewed coffee.
Travers beamed as they entered. “Good morning.”
Gary chuckled. “Someone got out of bed on the right side.”
“Trust me, you’ll be smiling too when you hear my news.” Travers gestured to the two worn leather chairs facing the desk, and they sat. “First thing this morning, we received an anonymous call. The caller suggested we might want to take a look at the case of Jason Phelps. And that wasn’t all he said.” He handed a sheet of paper to Gary. “This is what we’ve turned up so far.”
Gary scanned the first few lines. “A cold case murder from 1991?” Then he read lower down, and he gaped. “You havegotto be kidding me.”
Travers nodded. “If any of what they claim can be substantiated, then this is dynamite. Not only that, it’s also the first real break in the Isabella Stewart Gardner case since 2003.”
“What happened in 2003?” Dan asked.
Travers sat, coffee cup in hand. “The FBI believed all the artwork was moved through several organized crime networks to Philadelphia. That was where the trail went cold in 2003, and there’s been nothing since.” He pointed to the sheet in Gary’s hand. “But if this turns out to be true….”
“Who is Jason Phelps?” Dan inquired.
“He was already a career criminal by the time he was killed in ’91,” Travers told him. “He’d been in prison for drug dealing in the mideighties.”
“And it definitelywasmurder?”
Travers chuckled. “I think two shots to the back of the head is pretty categorical, don’t you?” He glanced at Gary. “I recommend interviewing Phelps’s sister, though. If our mystery caller is correct and she’s still with us, she can support some of their claims.” Travers stared at them. “Well? What are you waiting for? Get this all checked out before you interview Gianni DiFanetti.” He grinned. “I may have to watch this one on camera. I want to see the look on his face.”
“Youknowhe’s not going to admit to any of this,” Gary informed him.
“That doesn’t matter. Whatdoesmatter is we might have found more nails for his coffin.” Travers’s face darkened. “Yes, it’s a case of innocent until proven guilty, but inhiscase, we know he’s guilty. Now we just need to prove it.”
Gary held up the sheet. “And this might be exactly what we need.”
It was a start, at any rate. And Travers was right. They had a lot to do before they walked into that interview room.
4:30 p.m.
GARY HADassessed the situation correctly. Gianni wasnottalking.
He’d sat through the interview so far with a sullen expression, and every now and then he’d glanced at his appointed attorney, who’d intoned, “No comment,” at regular intervals. Gary hadn’t missed the momentary frisson that had rippled through Gianni, however, when he’d learned his father had provided a lot of the information.
Gianni had to be feeling awfully lonely right then.
The door opened, and an officer entered. He handed Gary a piece of folded paper, then withdrew.
Gary opened it, doing his best to school his features as he read it. He showed it to Dan before meeting Gianni’s bored gaze. “Some interesting news.” Gary told him. “When the stock exchange opened this morning, your uncle sold all his shares in DFF group companies. Now why would he do that?”
