Mob Lawyer 5: A Legal Thriller Read online

  “I need to make a few calls,” the large man finally said. “You stay here. And keep your hands to yourself. Although, if you decide you want to go through some of the files, I’ll be more than happy to make room in our cells for you.”

  “I won’t move a muscle,” I told him as I leaned back and made myself more comfortable.

  “Mmmhmm,” the captain said with narrowed eyes.

  He stormed out of his office, and I almost felt bad for the detective and the officers. Almost. His bellow lifted into the air seconds later, and I pulled my phone out of my pocket to text Anthony an update.

  We’ll wait for you to eat. Come over as soon as you’re done.

  I looked at my watch and sighed, it was already late in the afternoon, but I was too excited to find out what was on that laptop to even think about waiting another day. I knew I’d never sleep if I just went home, and I definitely didn’t want to offend Gulia by not showing up for dinner.

  I’ll text you when I’m on my way. It may be a few more hours.

  There was no response, but I hadn’t expected one. I didn’t want to look through any of my files while I was in the police station since there could be eyes anywhere, and I didn’t want anyone to see my defense plans. Instead, I distracted myself with CandyCrush to wile away the minutes that seemed to stretch on interminably.

  The captain was gone for almost an hour, but his loud voice echoed throughout the bullpen a few times. He poked his head in once or twice, glared at me as if he was trying to decide if I'd moved, and then went back out.

  “Mr. Morgan,” a familiar voice said from behind me.

  I twisted in my seat to see Chief Flores in the doorframe to the captain’s office. His five foot five frame almost looked tall while I was sitting, but the moment that I stood up he was once again barely up to my chin. He was built like a bull with his wide shoulders and puffed out chest, and he wore his favorite self-righteous smile as he looked at me.

  “Chief Flores,” I said. “What brings you all the way out to Staten Island?”

  “He’s here to resolve this mess,” the captain said from behind the short man.

  “It should already be taken care of,” I said.

  I leaned down to pick up my briefcase, straightened, and turned so that I could look at the two men head-on. I had to tamp down on my temper as I glared at them. I shouldn’t have had to wait any longer since they didn’t have anything on Serafina, and even the corrupt chief of police couldn’t arrest my client for breaking into a car that her father had let her borrow.

  “Don’t get your panties in a wad,” Flores said. “It’s my job to make sure that the criminals stay where they belong.”

  “You mean the ones that your real bosses want behind bars,” I countered.

  “I work for the people of this city,” the short man said as he puffed out his chest. “And they want to see the Febbo family and their associates behind bars.”

  “Serafina is a twenty year old college student,” I said. “Not some hardened mafioso. You should be able to recognize the difference, Flores.”

  “That’s Chief Flores to you,” the broad-chested man snarled. “And you would be wise to remember that.”

  “Of course,” I said with a grin. “Chief Flores.”

  “Now,” Flores said as he motioned to the chairs. “Tell me what’s going on.”

  I sighed, set my briefcase back down, and reclaimed the chair that I had abandoned. I was in no mood to keep repeating myself, but it would be the last time that I explained it, or God help me, I might just start shooting the place up myself.

  “My client was arrested for breaking the window of her father’s car,” I started. “A car that he had lent to her, and that she had locked her phone and keys inside. Your officers cuffed her and brought her in without listening to her, and now she’s been detained for hours without a crime being committed.”

  “And how do we know that it was really her father’s car?” Chief Flores asked.

  He glanced over to the captain as the large man took the other guest chair in his own office.

  “I have an officer checking the registration and talking to the father,” the captain said while he picked the lint off of his pants.

  “Good,” the corrupt chief said with a nod. “We’ll see if you’re telling the truth.”

  “How would it benefit me to lie?” I asked.

  I wanted to scream, or maybe punch both of them, but there was no point. I just had to be patient, and then Serafina would be released from the latest bogus charges. I was really tired of the ridiculous cases that the mayor and the chief kept slapping the Febbo family with, but it would stop once we managed to connect them to the Serbians.

  “Captain?” a middle-aged woman with dirty-blonde hair asked from the door.

  “Ah, there’s the officer now,” the big man said with a grin. “What did you find out?”

  The woman shifted from foot to foot as her deep brown eyes shifted from me to the captain and then over to the chief of police. She was a frumpy woman in a too tight uniform that barely fit over her large breasts. Most of her makeup had been worn away, and her forehead gleamed with oil and sweat.

  “Um,” she started. “It-It seems that the car does belong to Ms. Davide’s father.”

  “You’re sure?” Flores asked.

  His tone suggested that she needed to rethink her declaration, but the young woman only nodded her head.

  “You checked the registration, right?” the captain asked. “You can’t just take her father’s word for it. He’d say anything to get his daughter out of trouble.”

  “Yes, sir,” the officer said. “Her father did say that he’s loaned her the car for the last few weeks, but I also checked the insurance and registration. She’s listed as another driver on his insurance, and the car does belong to her father. I double-checked with her school, and the vehicle is registered under her name for a parking decal.”

  The two men exchanged a dark look while I tried to fight back the snarky grin that wanted to spread over my face. They had nothing now that their own officer had proven that Serafina regularly drove the car, and they had no choice but to let my client go.

  “In that case,” I said as I stood. “I expect my client to be released in the next few minutes. Since it’s so late she’ll likely pick up her car in the morning, but I know that you will make sure that she isn’t charged any fees.”

  “Now you just wait a minute,” Flores said with a nasty grin of his own.

  He met the captain’s eyes, nodded his head, and then turned his attention back to me.

  “You don’t have anything to hold her on,” I ground out as I gripped my briefcase until my knuckles turned white.

  “From what I understand, she did cause quite a disturbance,” the chief said as he held up his hands in supplication. “We would be remiss if we didn’t at least charge her with that. She’ll have a small fee, and then she’s free to go.”

  “You have no foundation,” I said. “The only disturbance was when your men grabbed her without asking any questions.”

  “That’s not what the witnesses say,” the captain said as he caught on. “They say she was acting crazy.”

  “I want to see their statements,” I countered.

  I knew they wouldn’t have any. I hadn’t seen any witnesses in the bullpen giving their statements, and the officers who’d arrested my client hadn’t bothered to listen to her, so I doubted they had talked to anyone else. They definitely didn’t have anything that they could use.

  “Sure,” Flores said. “We’ll give them to you in court tomorrow morning.”

  “No,” I said. “You’ll show me now, or I’ll bother a judge at home to get a court order for them.”

  “That’s excessive,” the captain huffed.

  “And so is charging my client for disturbing the peace without any evidence,” I said.

  “Let her go,” the short man said as he stood. “It’s only a matter of time before she screws u
p again, and we’ll be waiting.”

  “Sir--” the larger man started before his boss shook his head. “Fine.”

  The captain turned to look at the blonde officer, nodded his head, and then sighed as the woman hurried away to start the paperwork.

  “If you arrest my client, again,” I warned. “Then I will sue the city for harassment.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Flores said. “It’s not the city’s fault that your client has a terrible choice in friends. Maybe she should rethink her alliances.”

  “You should take your own advice,” I said.

  I stared down at the small man as he glowered up at me, and I felt like I was in an argument with a child. I was fairly certain that if there weren’t so many witnesses in the bullpen, he would have shot me where I stood. I refused to back down, though. I was in the right when I’d declared that my client had done nothing wrong, and the chief needed to get out of the bed he’d made with the Serbians.

  “Are we getting out of here?” Serafina interrupted the tension.

  The middle-aged officer led my client out from the hallway of holding cells, had her sign some paperwork, and then escorted her over to me.

  “Yep,” I said. “Do you have a copy of that paperwork for me?”

  “Yes,” the female cop said as she handed over the printed papers.

  “Wow,” I said with a bright smile. “I thought I’d have to wait for these. At least there’s one competent cop in Staten Island.”

  The woman narrowed her eyes as if she couldn’t decide whether she wanted to curse at me or thank me. She settled with a huff before she stomped off to a desk in the corner.

  “See you soon,” Flores called as my client and I walked out.

  “That was complete bullshit,” Serafina huffed as she flipped her ponytail. “They completely ruined my night. But at least I didn’t have to wear orange again. Thanks, Mr. Morgan.”

  “Of course,” I said. “Is your dad coming to get you, or would you like a ride home?”

  “I have someone,” the young woman said with a shy smile. “There he is now!”

  “Have a good night,” I said with a smile.

  “You, too,” the Italian woman said. “Hopefully, they’ll leave me alone, now. I don’t know why they even bothered with it in the first place. It’s not like they could give me hard time. At most, I’d probably just have probation.”

  “That’s the question of the hour,” I muttered.

  My young client waved at me, turned toward her ride, and then jogged over to the Chrysler 300 with a handsome young driver who blushed when she climbed into the passenger seat.

  “That took longer than I thought it would,” Hank said as he sprang up out of the shadows that the sunset light cast. “I almost went in when I saw the chief show up.”

  “Yeah,” I said as I headed toward my car.

  “Everything okay, Hunter?” my bodyguard asked.

  “Just thinking about something Serafina said,” I told him.

  I tugged my phone out of my pocket to text Anthony that I was about to be on my way, climbed into my Mercedes, and smiled as the engine purred to life. I waved to Hank as the large man climbed into his own car and pulled out of the parking spot that he’d found behind me.

  My mind raced as I thought about why the cops would have bothered with Serafina. I couldn’t get past what she had said about being on probation, and my mind ticked through the possibilities. For one thing, she wouldn’t be able to work for the family if she was because the cops could search her belongings at any time without a warrant.

  And then it hit me.

  They wanted a legal way to spy on the Febbos and anyone they thought had ties to the Mafia.

  Chapter 3

  The LIE was bathed in golden light as I drove toward Riverhead. I glanced out of the window as I drove to admire the dusty rose and lavender sky that was painted behind pure white clouds. I felt like more time had passed in the Staten Island police station, but it was still only eight p.m..

  The drive out of the city was smooth for a change, and I realized that most of the rush hour traffic had already died down or was headed into the city for whatever nightclub they could find. There was a wreck, but by the time I’d reached it, the cops had cleared most of it out of the way.

  Soon, I was on the long winding driveway that led to the Febbo estate. The house itself was massive and looked like a villa had been plucked out of the Italian countryside and dropped amongst wine vineyards in New York. The red tiled roof sat perfectly on the cream-colored stucco walls, and large windows looked out on the circular drive. A large concrete fountain of a beautiful, half-naked woman spilled crystal clear water into the base below it, while guards dressed in black wandered by it without a second look as they made their rounds.

  “Hunter!” Michael called as he trotted down the stone steps.

  The older man was Anthony’s uncle on his mother’s side. He had chosen a wavy black toupee for the night that reminded me of his nephew’s hair, and I wondered if he’d chosen it so that he would fit in with the other capos. He didn’t have anything to do with the family business, at least as far as I could tell, but it was probably a way for him to at least feel like he belonged.

  “Hey,” I said as I climbed out of my car. “Looks like a full house tonight.”

  I motioned to the line of shiny black Chrysler 300s that lined the drive and the group of drivers smoking and talking beneath the trees.

  “It is,” the friendly man said with a shrug. “Some big hubbub. Anthony told me to have you go straight to the office.”

  “Then I’ll do that,” I said. “Has everyone eaten?”

  “No,” Michael said with a shake of his head. “Gulia wanted to make sure the whole family was here.”

  His toupee shifted a little when a small breeze picked up the front of it, and he tried to pat it back into position.

  “Great,” I said as I ignored the toupee. “I’m starving.”

  I still wasn’t used to being addressed as part of the family, and I wasn’t entirely sure that Sal agreed with the invitation, but Gulia and Anthony had said it was so, and that counted for something.

  The smell of garlic and stewed tomatoes washed over me the moment I walked into the house. I glanced into the dining room before I jogged up the steps toward the office, but the dining room table was still empty. I was ravenous, and Gulia’s cooking was always worth whatever wait there was.

  The office was eerily quiet as I approached the door. I had become used to the explosive arguments that Anthony and Sal had on almost every subject. I listened for a few seconds before I knocked, and though there were voices on the other side of the door, they seemed more frustrated than angry.

  “Come in,” Anthony called.

  I opened the door and strolled in with as much confidence as I could muster. I recognized Jovanni, but the other three capos were new. I nodded my head at each of them, set my briefcase down, and then turned my attention to Sal and Anthony.

  Sal sat in his chair behind the desk while Anthony hovered over his left shoulder. The head of the Febbo family had his hand on a mouse as he scrolled through Galic’s laptop.

  “You must be the lawyer,” one of the men grunted at me.

  He was in his late forties with a strike of silver hair by his left temple. He stared into me with disapproval, and the corners of his mouth were pulled into a deep frown. He wore a pressed black suit that made the scruff on his face seem out of place, and his muscles bulged against his well-tailored blazer.

  “I am,” I said as I met his unblinking gaze. “And who are you?”

  The man bristled at the question as if I should already know his name, but he stood down when Sal raised his hand to silence him.

  “Who he is doesn’t concern you,” the older Febbo man said.

  The printer whirred to life as Sal clicked the mouse a few times, and I glanced over to see that there were several small stacks of papers that another one of the capos was organizing. H
e was younger than the other men in the room, young enough to sport a man bun, jeans, and a button-up, but when he threw a look over his shoulder my blood still ran cold. He couldn’t be older than me, but I was very sure that he was a made man several times over.

  “How is the search going?” I asked as a change of subject.

  I pried my eyes away from the dead stare of the younger capo and reminded myself that I didn’t need to know what part of the business he was in charge of despite my overwhelming curiosity.

  “It’s rough,” Anthony answered.

  The younger Febbo’s eyes were rimmed with red like he hadn’t slept in days. His dark hair was still perfectly styled, though, and his suit was wrinkle-free. He ran a hand down his face as he stretched his shoulders. His wiry frame seemed out of place amongst the larger men in the office, but I knew that my employer could hold his own in a fight if he needed to.

  “There’s too much goddamn information,” Sal snapped.

  “We’re almost done printing,” Jovanni said with a shrug. “Then all of us can take a look.”

  “Is there a stack for me?” I asked.

  “And why the hell would we trust you to look at it?” the scruffy capo growled.

  He puffed out his chest as he glowered at me, but I refused to be intimidated as I met his eyes without flinching.

  “Because I’ve spent more time reading textbooks and contracts than everyone in this room combined,” I answered.

  “Are you trying to say we can’t read?” the angry man shouted.

  “Of course not,” I said. “But between law school and my work with my old firm, I’ve spent hours reading legal jargon, spreadsheets, and anything else that Galic may have on that thing.”

  The capo looked like he was ready to shoot me. His hand reached for his belt line, but he stopped as if he thought better of it, and shifted his considerable weight like he might tackle me instead.

  “Hunter didn’t mean any offense,” Anthony said with a pointed stare at me.

  “I didn’t,” I confirmed.

  “Everyone, calm the hell down,” Sal said. “The lawyer’s right. He has more experience reading this kind of paperwork than most of us. Though I’m still not sure he’d be able to help us find hidden money.”