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Gianni’s eyes widened slightly; then he gave his attorney another glance.
“No comment.” Mr. Ellis shuffled his papers. “Does that conclude your evidence against my client?”
“Not quite.” Gary turned the page in his notepad. “We haven’t talked about the art heist at the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum yet. Are you familiar with this event, Mr. Ellis?”
“I recall reading about it, a long time ago.”
“Twenty-eight years ago, to be exact. March eighteenth, 1990. The stolen works have been valued at hundreds of millions of dollars by the FBI and art dealers.”
Mr. Ellis made an impatient noise. “I am aware you have charged my client with the theft of the artworks. I am also aware this comes from information given to you by his father. But if that is all you have to connect my client to this heist, then—”
“Not all,” Gary assured him. “But my story starts the week before the heist.” He consulted his notes. “Sunday, March eleventh, to be exact. An ex-drug dealer by the name of Jason Phelps went to visit his sister.”
“I fail to see what this has to do with my client.”
Gianni’s bored expression morphed into a look of faint alarm.
“Mr. Phelps told his older sister, Trish, that he had something big coming up, only he wasn’t sure if he was going to do it. At the time she thought he was referring to selling cocaine.”
“And?” Mr. Ellis tapped his pen on the table. “How does this connect to my client?”
“I spoke with Trish Adams this morning. She told me her brother used to work for your client. That he spent a lot of time at Gianni’s home in fact. I’m sure that can be corroborated.”
Mr. Ellis folded his arms.
Gianni stared at Gary.
“In February, 1991, eleven months after the art heist, Mr. Phelps was letting himself into his apartment in Lynn, Massachusetts, when an unknown assailant shot him twice in the back of the head. The lightbulb above the door had been removed. The crime remains unsolved to this day.”
Mr. Ellis arched his eyebrows. “Is this another cold case murder that you’re trying to pin on my client?”
“According to information we received today, just days before he died, Mr. Phelps was reportedly heard bragging about the fact that he had in his possession two of the stolen artworks, and that he’d hidden some more of them.” Gary looked Gianni in the eye. “The informant also stated you were the one who shot Jason Phelps, and that they are willing to testify to that.”
Gianni paled. “No comment.”
Gary closed his notepad. “Andnowwe’re done.” He gave a nod to the officer standing against the wall. “Mr. DiFanetti is ready to go back to his cell.” He glanced at Gianni. “Tomorrow morning, you’ll be taken to the Suffolk County Jail to await your trial.” He smiled. “See you in court.”
And with that, Gary walked slowly from the interview room, to be met by Dan and Travers.
Dan’s eyes shone. “You were awesome.”
Gary smiled. “You should have been in there with me. After all, you helped put him in that room.”
Dan shook his head. “My part in this case is done.”
Travers patted Gary on the shoulder. “Well done.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“When the media gets wind of this case, you two will be in the headlines again. Talk about a high-profile case.” Travers smiled. “Good start.”
It was the opening Gary had been hoping for. “I wanted to talk to you about that, but… could we go to your office?”
Travers blinked. “Sure.”
They filed through the hallways, and yet again Gary and Dan were greeted with comments and smiles from their coworkers, in stark contrast to the day they’d learned of Dan’s new role in the department.
Amazing how a little success can change people’s opinions.
