“And I let George pick out the rib joints we eat at,” Ginsberg said.
“Me and Jackson caught a homicide,” Rizzo began, watching both cops nod their understanding. “So we’re gonna be busy for a while. I came up with a name on the robberies. But here’s the thing: the perp is thirteen.”
“Shit,” Parker said. “That’ll kill a couple a days for the arresting.”
“Exactly,” Rizzo said. “I lock this kid up, either me or Jackson gotta sit with him durin’ the whole process, right through to the fuckin’ Family Court appearance. Then we hafta transport him to Spofford or wherever the fuck they ship ’im pending disposition. It could take two days, not to mention havin’ to kiss his mother’s ass the whole time.” He looked from one to the other. “I ain’t got that kinda time right now, guys.”
“I hear you,” Parker said. “So, whaddya got in mind?”
“I’ll cut a deal,” Rizzo said. “I give you the name. You make the pinch, walk the kid through, or maybe get Olivero to do it for you-he’s the friggin’ youth officer. Then me and Jackson get sole credit on the Hom case, shared on your two cases. That gives me and her three cleared cases, a cushion for us to work this homicide. We just cleared a shooting and that dick-waver case, so with the robberies, that’s five in-what?-five, six weeks we been partnered? It’s more than good enough.”
Parker and Ginsberg exchanged looks, then Ginsberg leaned toward Rizzo.
“How do we know the name’s good?” he asked.
Rizzo shrugged. “Try it out. Go talk to the kid. Squeeze him, lean on the mother. She’s an immigrant, ask her for her green card, scare her a little. If the kid don’t cop to it, line him up and bring in the vics. I bet one or more can make the kid.” He looked from one to the other, noting the interest in their eyes. “If it don’t work out, nothin’ lost, nothin’ gained.” He paused, allowing a smile to come to his face. “I got a feelin’ it’s gonna work out, though. A good feeling.”
After a moment, Parker crossed his hands on his broad, flat midriff and said, “You know, I been at the Six-Two less than a year, but I hear good shit ’bout your little deals, Joe.” He turned his hard brown eyes to his partner. “Whaddya think, Counselor? Sounds like a plan to me.”
Ginsberg turned his gaze to Rizzo. “I’ll say yes. I have faith in Joe’s… vision.”
Rizzo slipped a piece of paper from his jacket pocket and tossed it onto Parker’s desk. “Good,” he said. “That’s the kid. Lives with his mother, and word is he ain’t wrapped too tight, so watch out when you pick ’im up. Don’t let his baby face fool you.”
Rizzo stood. “One more thing.” The two detectives turned their eyes upward to meet his.
“This kid might be wearin’ Rebel colors,” Rizzo said in a serious tone. “If word gets around the neighborhood he’s a Rebel, we got a very serious problem.”
The two cops furrowed their brows for a moment. Then, a sudden awareness appeared in Ginsberg’s green eyes.
“I smell some diarrhea, Joe,” he said cheerfully, “and I think it’s runnin’ down Zee-Boy’s leg. Am I right?”
Rizzo shook his head gently. “No squeal on The Rebels, Mark,” he said. “They don’t exist, far as this case goes. If you convince Olivero to help out, make sure he gets that, too.”
“Done,” Ginsberg said. They shook hands and Rizzo once again glanced at his wristwatch. The bargaining hadn’t taken very long.
“Go on, guys,” he said. “Take off. I got the squad covered. Go on home.”
Parker stood, his six-four frame towering above Rizzo.
“Pleasure doin’ business with ya, paesan,” he said, laying a large hand on Rizzo’s shoulder. “Truly a plea sure.”
LATER THAT morning, Rizzo and Jackson sat at a small table in the detective squad interview room, across from Detective Second Grade Robert Dellosso, known around the precinct as Bobby Dee.
“Tough way to get started in the precinct, Cil,” Dellosso said, “catchin’ a cold homicide.”
“Somebody’s got to do it,” she said.
“Bobby,” Rizzo said, “Vince told me he had you and Kenny do a canvass at the scene.”
“Yeah, we did. Four and a half friggin’ hours and all of it on straight time.”
“Thanks. How’d you make out?” Rizzo asked.
“Waste a time. Tough enough to canvass for info when you don’t know the date of the crime, but then factor in this guy Lauria, it’s fuckin’ impossible.”
“Why’s that?”
“This guy was the Invisible Man, Joe. Not one person off the block knew who we were askin’ about. And maybe two, three people on the block itself knew him, and them only ’cause they were friendly with the homeowners, the Annasias.”
Rizzo ran his hand through his hair. “Yeah, I’m not surprised. Seems the guy was a loner, kept to himself.”
“Big time, Joe. Even the local shopkeepers couldn’t place the guy. Me and Kenny had a picture of Lauria we took outta the apartment. Even that didn’t help.”
“Well,” Rizzo said, “thanks for tryin’. And thank Kenny for me.”
“Hey, no problem,” Dellosso said. “I owe you plenty a favors. Anyway, I’m almost done with the DD-fives, I’ll give ’em to you when they’re finished.”
“Thanks,” Rizzo said. “And do me one more favor, if you don’t mind. Give me that picture of Lauria, too. Cil and I can use it.”
“Sure.”
“You’re sure it’s him, right, Bobby? The picture, I mean. You’re sure it’s of Lauria?”
“Hey, Joe, me and Kenny ain’t that stupid. We had the landlord I.D. it before we showed it around.”
“Yeah, well, I know. Just thought I’d ask, that’s all.”
“What now?” Priscilla asked, when Dellosso had left the room.
Before he could answer, a uniformed officer assigned to the squad room opened the door and stuck his head in.
“Hey, Joe,” the cop said. “Call for you on three-five.”
“Thanks, guy,” Rizzo said, standing and leaving the room, Priscilla following. He took the call at his desk, gesturing for Priscilla to sit down.
“Rizzo,” he said.
“Hey, Joe, good morning,” he heard. It was Detective Dan Schillings from the CSU team.
“Hey, Dan, mornin’. What’s up?”
“Some prelims on that Lauria case,” Schillings said.
“Tell me,” Rizzo replied.
Schillings cleared his throat. Rizzo heard a faint rustle of papers coming through the line.
“Two sets of prints in the apartment. One was the vic’s, the other belonged to MaryAnn Carbone, thirty-eight-year-old female, last known out in Canarsie.”
“The cousin I been hearin’ about,” Rizzo said. Then a thought came to him. “Why were her prints on file, Dan?”
Again Rizzo heard the shuffling of papers.
“Hold on… here it is. She works as an aide in the public school out on Rockaway Parkway. They print for that job.”
“Okay. Where’d you find her prints?”
“Various, mostly kitchen and bathroom. Nothin’ in the rear bedroom, nothing out of the ordinary.”
“Okay,” Rizzo said. “Just those two sets, that’s it?”
“Yeah, that was it, print-wise. But we got lucky.”
Rizzo’s eyebrows raised. “Tell me.”
“We had a mutual fiber transfer hit. We found what looks like a foreign fiber on Lauria’s T-shirt. I sent a couple a guys out to the scene. They’re taking samples of all the clothes in the apartment. In a few days, I’ll be able to tell you if this fiber is from a piece of Lauria’s clothing or possibly from the perp. It’s a start.”
“If we ever I.D. a suspect, that fiber can help nail the guy,” Rizzo said.
“Yeah, could happen. We’ll see.”
“Anything else of value?” Rizzo asked.
“Not yet. Backyard was clean. In fact, the whole scene was pretty clean. There were clear prints on the inside and outside doorknobs of the front door. So they weren’t wiped down.”