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To see him naked now, cut up and stitched back together, helpless…
He may not have had my love, but he has my fierce loyalty. As does Sylvia. I will find out who killed him and give them both peace.
I look at his gaunt face, cheeks sunk in and lips blue, and can’t find a hint of the life he once had. There’s nothing but a mask that resembles the man he used to be.
“Tell me what you found,” I order through gritted teeth.
Gunderson slips on latex gloves. From a small tray, he grabs a sharp tool and uses it as a pointer. “There are two gunshot wounds. The first is this graze.” He signals to a gash on his left forearm. “The second here”—he indicates the one low on his chest—“is the point of entry for a nine millimeter bullet which was lodged in his spine. It hit him straight on at close range. Being this far down, it makes me believe the person who shot him was either short or had their elbow bent.”
“Someone short,” I repeat, my mind flipping through the catalogue of every short fuck I know.
Gunderson tilts his head, his brows pinched together tightly. “Did the lead detective from the scene tell you anything about what was found?”
I flick my gaze to him. “He refused to talk.” Joaquin dropped the ball on that when he decided to pull the plug on the funds he was providing the chief last week. A problem I wanted remedied and was giving him time to address. Something I regret now.
“The body was found in the alley. I was at the crime scene and the amount of blood at the site doesn’t correlate with how much he lost.”
“You believe he was killed somewhere else?”
He nods. “There’s also the fact that his clothes showed signs of having been in the river.”
My face snaps to my father. “The river? Did he drown?”
“No. But he was exposed. There was water in his lungs and in the tissue sample from his wounds that I sent to toxicology. It’s not definitive that he was shot beforehand, but I’m almost certain.”
I dig my fingers into my temples and screw my eyes shut. The Hudson River is only a few blocks from where he was found.
“Was there any evidence that he was dragged from the water?” I ask.
“No.” He lifts the blanket over my father, covering him completely. “Mr. Esposito, the reason I asked you to come down here wasn’t just so I could tell you my findings. I could have done that over the phone.”
“Then why?”
Taking off his gloves, he moves to the sink and washes his hands as if he’s trying to get blood off them even though they’re clean. It’s the same thing I do when I’ve gotten the stain of someone’s death on me. But blood is harder to erase from your mind than your skin. Even when it isn’t there, the idea of it makes you keep scrubbing.
He goes to a locker and removes a gallon freezer bag full of items from it. “I wanted to give you these personally. They’re your father’s belongings.”
“Thank you,” I say, accepting them. Through the clear plastic, I can see a brown leather wallet, keys, coins, and jewelry.
“The case is going to be closed. Gianni’s decision to terminate contracts with certain people is having a trickling-down effect.”
“Has his contract with you been terminated?”
“That doesn’t matter.” He shrugs. “I’m merely the examiner. If the D.A. decides to shut it, it’s done. There won’t be any further investigation and all you’ll have is what I just gave you.”
Motherfucking Joaquin didn’t pay the D.A. either?
This problem that shouldn’t be mine is becoming a bigger one by the second.
“Thanks,” I say, making a mental note of Gunderson’s favor.
I leave the morgue with more questions and no answers. Other than it was probably some short asswipe who did it. If the D.A. closes the case before anything else can be investigated, we won’t even know that for sure.
Damn Joaquin and his lofty notions that he can rule Jersey without paying his dues. He believes he can bark orders without earning obedience, either by way of respect or money.
It was much easier to maintain my oath of loyalty to the family when my Uncle Francesco was in power. His son, however, is a different matter.
I work for the family, I remind myself. Not the man.
