“Zola, the pawn broker isn’t a bad witness, and de Vries is foolproof!”
It was a common refrain between Derek and me over the years, not to mention many DAs and the precincts they worked with. Sometimes I wanted to have “beyond reasonable doubt” printed on my undershirt.
“The pawn broker is half blind, and Eric de Vries has a grudge, King. Jude Letour was part of a group that framed him for securities fraud, kidnapped his wife, and killed his unborn child. That’s hardly foolproof. Other than them, the diner lady will get cast as no better than hearsay. Especially since you and Cliff didn’t see any of it.” I clicked my tongue, thinking. “And we still don’t have any direct connection to John Carson. Sure, he owns a stake in that property along with Letour, but that doesn’t mean he’s culpable for what’s going on there.”
“Zola, come on…”
I shook my head. “Letour’s not the target; he’s just a liaison. We need the big fish. Ramirez only gave us leave to do this because he wants Carson, and so do I. If we can get a little more—something that will legitimately bring him down—then we might be able to take it to the grand jury before the gala.”
Derek groaned. I didn’t blame him. It was obvious to us both what was going on—one of the gangs in The Hole was running the door on a house trading drugs, prostitutes, and a number of other illicit items through the neighborhood. Rings like this usually had several different safe houses, but Derek had obviously identified one of the main hubs. Still, we needed more.
“I say we raid the joint. We’re not going to get the evidence we need following junkies like Roscoe around Brooklyn,” Derek said. “And if Carson’s potential pickup is in only four weeks, we need evidence. Fast.”
“Too fast, and he doesn’t show at all.”
I was hesitant to request a warrant for a full raid before we had the goods on the rest of the people running it. We had one shot at the element of surprise. We needed to make the most of it.
“Junkie Roscoe,” I said. “When he was with the girls, how did he look?”
Derek raised a brow. “How do you think he looked? He’s running girls for drug money and smoking that shit around the next corner. Roscoe Jackson is a grade A crackhead. What are you thinking? Raid his apartment instead?”
I twisted my mouth around. “We could make it look like something less…suspicious. He would be a bad witness though. If he’s so wasted he can’t even keep his mouth shut, the defense will tear him apart.”
“So we get him sober,” Derek chimed in. “Dry him out for a few days. Get the names we really need.”
I frowned, weighing the pros and cons. It didn’t take long. We were backed into a corner, and with barely a month until the gala, I was under pressure from both Ramirez and the de Vrieses to make some meaningful progress.
“Write it up,” I said. “And keep watching him. I’ll get a warrant for a raid on his place next week. We’ll make the fucker talk. I want to be present during the interrogation, all right?”
Derek rolled his eyes. I knew as well as he did that a lot of cops didn’t appreciate prosecutors in the interrogation room. But this was my case as much as his. I wasn’t going to be sidelined.
“All right,” Derek said. “I need to go home and clean up before I go back there. It’s a motherfuckin’ wasteland, that part of the borough. Sewage and horse shit all over the street. Actual horse shit, man. Fuckin’ nas—”
“Ziiiiiiiooooooo!” Behind us, the front door banged open, and before Derek could continue his rant, my niece’s cartoonish voice filtered through the house and out the back door screen.
Derek smiled. “Sounds like responsibility.”
“Sounds like trouble,” I said as Sofia bulleted out onto the deck and into my arms. “Hey, peanut, you’re back!”
“Mommy said you’d be home today,” she squealed.
“Sure, I am, bean. It’s Saturday.” I squeezed her tight.
“Princess Sofia,” Derek greeted her, having met her and Frankie a few other times.
“I missed you!” Sofia smacked a loud kiss on my cheek. Might have embarrassed some guys, but
Derek just watched with familiarity.
“It was just two days with your cousins, Sofs,” I said.
“Two rotten days.” My niece screwed up her face like a pug’s. “Those boys is no good.”
I raised a brow. That sounded like her mother talking.
“Sofia.” Frankie’s voice was sharp as she appeared at the door, arms crossed.
“But that’s what you said! When they pulled on my braids and called me a girl!”
“You are a girl, Sofs,” I told her. “Next time they do that, just say, ‘Lucky me. Otherwise I’d look like you bozos.’”
That produced a giggle, and immediately the little girl started rehearsing the retort under her breath.
“Mattie, don’t teach her that,” Frankie said. “She’s going to start calling all her friends clowns now.”
I shrugged. “Lea’s kids are clowns, and those animals deserve a taste of their own medicine. Just wait until I get up there on Sunday. Then they’ll really get it.”
“I can’t wait until you have kids. You’re going to have three little girls, and they’re going to call you names all day long the second you try to discipline them.”
Beside me, Derek straightened in his chair. “Ah, hey, Frankie. How’re you doin’?”
Frankie’s sharp gaze softened on the detective. “Oh, hey, Derek. Anything new?”
“Nah, Frankie,” I said after Derek stared at her for a moment too long. “Just sorting out the usual things. Same day, different case.”
“All right. I’ll try to keep this one out of your way, then. Come on, Sof, you can play with your Legos while I get dinner started.”
Sofia slid off my lap like a wet noodle, but stopped at the door before going inside. “Zio, can we play Barbies tomorrow?”
I cocked my head. “Barbies? How about I be the G.I. Joe instead?”
“No!” Sofia shrieked. “She don’t need a man to rescue her, you bozo!” And then she rocketed inside.
Derek just chuckled.
I eyed Frankie. “She got all of that from me, did she?”
Frankie’s cheeks reddened. “She’s a smart girl.”
I hid a smile. “That she is.”
Frankie ducked in after Sofia. Derek watched her go while I went back to studying my notes.
“Yo, man. Your sister. You, um, you think she’d take my number?”
I looked up. “What, like for a date?”
Derek shrugged. “Yeah, why not?”
I frowned. “I mean, she’s my sister. If you’re looking for some easy fun, I’m not the person to be asking.”
“No, no,” Derek said. “I…she just seems cool. If you’re not okay with it, I’ll step back. No harm, no foul.”
I eyed him for a moment, taking note of the way he followed Frankie’s movements through the house. But before I could answer, the buzz of my phone on the glass tabletop interrupted us. I took another drink of my beer and swiped it open.