“Where were the bodies when you got here?”
Dolan pointed to where paramedics worked on the man outside the pizza parlor. “That guy was right there.” He shifted to look at the second man and the woman, who now lay side by side on the sidewalk, paramedics working on them as well. “The second guy there was lying right on top of the woman. The pistol was next to his left hand.”
Sparks looked at Nicoletti. “Why don’t you have Dolan show you the pistol? I’ll see what I can get from the paramedics.”
Sparks moved to where four paramedics attended to the man and woman. “What d’ya got?”
Without looking up, one of the paramedics working on the man said, “Single shot to the upper right side of his chest. Mighta nicked a lung. We gotta get him to the emergency room stat.”
“You find ID?”
“Didn’t look.”
Sparks squatted, patted the man’s jacket pockets, and felt something in the left side pocket. She pulled it out and was shocked to find a cred pack with a Redondo Beach Police Department badge and ID. She looked over at the two men working on the woman, who muttered something and appeared to be trying to get up. “What’s her story?” she asked.
“No wounds other than a laceration on the back of her head. Maybe a concussion.”
Sparks stood and motioned to Dolan. When he joined her, she told him, “Don’t let that gal out of your sight. As soon as the paramedics are done with her, cuff her and accompany her to the hospital.” Then Sparks moved over to the team with the other male victim, who was now on a stretcher. Before she could ask, one of the paramedics said, “He’s gone.”
“ID?”
“Yeah.” He pointed at a blood-soaked white towel on the sidewalk next to the stretcher. “We found a cred pack in the pool of blood next to the body.”
Sparks gingerly lifted a corner of the towel and used the tip of a pen to flip open the ID case. “Detective John Andrews, Redondo Beach P.D.,” she whispered. “Huh.”
Louis Massarino set up Bruno in a basement apartment in his home. “Bruno, let’s close out the deal as fast as possible,” he said. “I’m worried about what happened tonight. My guy with the Brooklyn P.D. tells me two cops from California were shot outside your apartment. The local cops took some Asian gal into custody, too. ”
“I’m sorry, Louis. I didn’t want to bring heat down on you.”
Massarino patted Bruno’s shoulder. “You got nothing to apologize for. We just need to get this thing done quickly.”
Bruno nodded. “Dave Lander’s due to call his guy at Rosen, Rice & Stone at ten in the morning.”
Janet had just about dozed off at 11:45 p.m. when she heard voices. She got out of bed and listened at her bedroom door. She couldn’t make out everything being said, but she was positive she heard someone mention a shooting. She quickly changed into jeans and a T-shirt, slipped on a pair of flats, and left the bedroom. She stopped at the entrance to the living room at the end of a long hall and saw Massarino and Caniglia watching television. Massarino’s expression was dour. The look on Caniglia’s face was as flat as it always seemed to be.
“Did we wake you?” Massarino asked.
Janet shrugged as she met Massarino’s look. “Is something wrong?”
He pointed at the television. “There was a commotion outside the apartment where Bruno was staying. We—”
“Oh my God,” Janet exclaimed as photos of Hugo Rosales and John Andrews were shown side by side on the television screen. A female voice in the background said that two Redondo Beach Police Department detectives had been shot outside a pizza parlor in Brooklyn, that one of the officers was dead, while the other was in critical condition. The commentator also mentioned that a woman had been taken into custody. The program didn’t show a photo of the woman, but the commentator identified her as Victoria Nguyen.
Janet said, “That could be the woman who followed us when we went to the apartment today.”
“I wouldn’t bet against it,” Massarino said.
Sy Rosen rarely slept more than six hours a night. Since he’d put out a hit on Bruno Pedace, he was lucky to get four hours sleep. That damned Nguyen had better get the job done soon, he thought. He shook his head in frustration at the time on the digital clock on his nightstand: 11:57. He got out of bed, slipped on a robe, and quietly left his bedroom so as to not wake his wife. In his first floor home office, he poured a shot of scotch, took a seat opposite the television, and clicked on the set. He sipped the drink and punched in the number of a local news station that streamed news 24/7. When Victoria Nguyen’s name scrolled across the bottom of the screen, the liquor went down the wrong way and a violent coughing episode hit him. His eyes watered. The glass fell from his hand and bounced; the scotch spilled and soaked into the antique Persian carpet.
He wiped his eyes and tried to stop coughing as he read the news message that ran across the screen. Victoria Nguyen had been arrested in Brooklyn at a crime scene where two Redondo Beach detectives had been shot.
“Oh fuck,” Rosen rasped.
DAY 8
CHAPTER 22
RBPD Police Chief Frances Cassidy was apoplectic with rage. Sure, Barry Rath, the Redondo Beach District Attorney, was a good and long-time friend, but that didn’t give Cassidy any comfort. For political reasons, Rath had cajoled her into sending Detectives Rosales and Andrews to New York City to track down Bruno Pedace. Rath wanted to see his name and photo on the front page of every area newspaper trumpeting his finding Pedace and connecting him to New York organized crime and to a financial services firm. But all that had been accomplished was that John Andrews was dead and Hugo Rosales was near death. She did her best to control her anger as she listened to the phone ring. When Rath finally answered, the D.A. sounded as though he was in poor humor.
“Dammit, Fran, it’s the middle of the night.”
Cassidy took a big breath and let it out slowly. “I know what time it is, Barry. I’m calling to tell you the two detectives you ordered me to send to New York City have been shot.”
Rath waited a long beat before responding. “Aw, jeez, Frannie. I’m really sorry to hear that. Do you know if they found Pedace?”
“Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me? I tell you that two of my best men have been shot and you don’t even ask if they’re okay.”
“Well, are they?”
“No, Barry, they’re not okay. Andrews is dead and Rosales is in surgery. They don’t think he’s going to make it.” Cassidy hesitated a couple seconds and added, “And I have no idea if they found Pedace and don’t care one way or the other.”
Rath groaned.
“You’d better come up with a statement about why you wanted Redondo Beach detectives sent to New York, and it better cover my ass in the process. It wouldn’t look good if it became known they were sent to New York to make you look good in the media.”
“Now wait a minute, Frannie, I didn’t—”
“Don’t you Frannie me, and don’t you dare try to put this on me. I’ve got the recording of the call you made telling me to send two of my people to New York.”