I glance over at Sam, wondering who should go next. When she nods, I try not to digress. “No magic was involved, only good sleuthing. You see, while Wheels drove his gal to a safe location, he figured out what Rose most likely overheard was a BIC code. With it, we located the truck and-”
“We?”
Again, my attorney interrupts, this time a little louder. “A large private investigative firm whose identity will be suppressed from this discussion.”
“You mean Grayson Patten’s men.” Young scoffs. “Figures.”
I look to both men. “Should I move on?”
“Sure, why not?” The super special agent is about to break so I try to be more succinct.
“So, we had plans to hijack the rig but before we could, a bunch of thugs fired on us. Rather than let them have the drugs, we blew it up. The end.” I check my watch.Damn, way too fast.
“What about this Paolo Stephano character?”
“Was that question for me or my wife?” If I could flutter my eyelashes, I would because it would be funny as hell to see this guy bust a gasket, but I promised my sweetheart I would play nice.
“Mr. Sutcliff, please explain, briefly, if you would.”
“I will try, sir, but it’s not as tidy as the rest of the story. The man you mentioned is my wife’s cousin’s ex-husband. He works, or I should say, worked for Vitale. His plan was to rob the cargo off the docks, sell it to the Detroit boys and steal it back.”
Young puts his head in his hands. “What the fuck?”
Sam raises her hand. “Let me try. It’s quite simple. My uncle sold a container of fentanyl-filled dolls to a Michigan crew. He gave the role of ungifting to Paolo but instead, his flunky changed sides. If not for Patten Securities, the drugs would’ve ended up on the streets. Sorry to say, things went south, the truck exploded, and now the gang holds my uncle responsible.”
“What about CloudTekToys. Are they in on this?”
Her Italian hands slice through the air as she speaks. “Honestly, I don’t think so. So far, it looks like the manufacturer stuffed the toy’s soft bodies without them knowing. I sent you the details of the next delivery. Are you following me?”
“So, let me get this straight. You want the DEA to convince some criminals that an Italian mobster blew up a shipment of fentanyl because we were about to take possession of it?”
“Correct. And hopefully, The Kings will no longer need revenge.”
Andy nods and stands. “If you have any more questions, please reach out, we’ll be more than happy to come back in.”
“God no. I’ll put whatever I have in writing.”
“That works, too.”
Young, wet spots under his arms, takes out a handkerchief and wipes his forehead. “We’ll do our best but if the gang doesn’t buy it, you need to be prepared to go into witness protection.”
Chapter Twelve
Sam
Wit-Sec? Leave my beloved Brooklyn?“Not happening.” As we’re led out of the interrogation room my hand reaches for Sebastian’s. He didn’t agree nor disagree with the DEA which sets off my imagination. What if we spend the rest of our lives looking over our shoulders or worse, in Idaho? I don’t even like potatoes.
“Thanks for coming.” My rambler shakes hands with our attorney, then I step in for a hug.
“Say hi to Sienna. Bye.” Tearful, I stroll outside onto the snow-covered sidewalk where the wind whips fluffy flakes into white tornadoes.
Freezing my ass off at the curb, I jump up and down, take out my phone, then tap the green icon. “Hey Bobby. How’s it going?”
In the background, childish squeals freak me out until I realize it’s laughter. Our nanny-guard turns on her camera and aims it at my son running after a toy car zooming across the floor.
“I re-programmed it for little kids. He loves it.”
“Wow.” A drop of water drips down my cheeks and stomach acids burn my esophagus.
