I sent him an impatient glance. “The psychology of it fits.”
“In what sense?” He held up a hand as I rolled my eyes. “We have limited time and I need to know we’re looking in the right place. So convince me, Flynn. I’m sure you can.”
I paused for a moment, trying to gather my thoughts. Then I leaped up and stared at the wall. “I seriously need a whiteboard to work on, so this will have to do. I’m gonna write all over it. Sorry in advance.”
Angelo regarded me with steady, dark eyes. Then he shrugged. “Nothing that a coat of paint can’t cover, I guess. Go ahead.”
I was already beginning to scribbleCaptain Matthew Walshon the wall with a Sharpie by the time he’d said it. “Here’s what I’m thinking,” I said, tapping his name with the end of the pen. “Walsh has a deep hatred of the Morelli family. I don’t know why, but ever since this task force started, he’s had it in for you guys. So have the Clemenzas, so maybe heisworking for them still, maybe it’s just some psychological fixation he’s had all these years, or maybe there’s another reason.” I looked at Angelo expectantly.
He looked uncomfortable, but then said, “There might be. I do remember the guy from back in the day. He got caught up in a fight with some Morelli soldiers one day, back when we were at war with the Clemenzas. Took more than one bullet. He really should have been pensioned out after that. According to his records, he never worked undercover again, but hehasbeen something of a thorn in the Morelli side over the years. Maybe he had an ax to grind.”
I turned back to the wall and made more rapid notes. “Okay, so there’s that, but then there’s the psychological aspect of it. He has that drive for status and takes vengeance over slights. He overreacts when people point out he’s wrong.” I remembered myweejiboard correction. Maybe that had been the moment Walsh had decided I’d be his patsy. “We also see that behavior in organized criminals,” I continued.
“No offense taken,” Angelo murmured.
I paused, wondering if he really had just made a joke. I went on. “I’ve been characterizing the Central Park Slayer in my own mind as a lone wolf actor, but that’s notentirelyaccurate. Whoever he is, he must have some kind of connections, for example, to know where Greco lived. That wasn’t exactly open knowledge, was it?”
“We found the information easily enough,” Angelo protested.
“You have some genius hacker working for you,” I pointed out. “Anyway, what worries me about this whole thing is thestyleof killing. It’s not exactly a professional hit, is it? Like, how wouldyoudo it? Wait, forget it,” I interrupted myself. “I know you won’t answer that.”
“I’d do a classic double-tap to the back of the head, or get up close if they trusted me, shoot them through the heart.” He almost smiled at my expression. “Well, you asked. In any professional hit, the idea is a quick, clean, certain kill. Shooting someone in the back from a distance to take them down, then coming up close to add one in the head—you’re right. It’s not our style. Unless we’re trying to send a message.”
The photographic image of wet, red sheets rose up in my mind and I suppressed a shiver of disgust. “Was Giorgio Benetti a message?”
Angelo’s face, which had been alive with amusement, turned blank. “Yes. Benetti was a message.”
“See, that’s the thing—if the Central Park Slayerweresomeone on your side, there would be more…” I had to think for a moment, piece out exactly what I wanted to say. “Moreblood. And if there really were a new Mob war starting, well, for one thing, I think the Morelli Underboss would be one of the first to know.”
I paused for Angelo to add his two cents, but he just looked back at me, his mouth a tight seam.
With a sigh, I went on. “But second, whoever was doing these killings wouldn’t be so secretive about who they are. If their intention was to terrorize, if this had been ordered by one of the Families, it would only make sense for them to take responsibility. Maybe not overtly, but there haven’t even been anyrumorsabout who might be involved. Not outside of the couple of guys we’ve looked into already, and it sure wasn’t them.”
Angelo was nodding now. “Luca said no other Bosses would take credit. He asked each of them directly, and for what it’s worth, he said they were as mystified as we are. They all think it’s him, that he’s pulling a double-bluff.”
“Right. And like I said before, whoever’s doing thisdoeswant people to know it’s him—he’s using a gun, no silencer. Walsh hasn’t pulled a gun on anyone in a long time, not since he got fast-tracked in leadership roles. I can see him deciding to take his shot from far away, take the target down,thenfinish them off. Now, let’s look at the LE victims.”
I scribbled their names and drew a link betweenCapt. Matthew WalshandDet. Jim Hanson. “We know Hanson was being pushed out, and Hanson was always against Walsh’s pet theories. He was the only cop on the task force who really stood up for suspects other than the Morellis. Maybe Walsh got tired of him, couldn’t wait the extra few weeks for the guy to retire, and killed him instead.”
“Dubious,” was all Angelo commented.
“Maybe. But then we have Bachman.” I drew another line across the wall and scribbledDet. Gavin Bachmanat the end of it. “Walsh sent Bachman after you that night we met, and he must have told Bachman to keep it quiet, because I wassupposedto be his partner by then. But Walsh would’ve known for sure that Bachman was going to be there in Central Park. If he wanted to pop another cop, well, there’s his chance.”
“Butwhy?” Angelo asked. “Why suddenly switch from killing mobsters to cops?”
I shrugged. “A million reasons. Maybe he wanted to increase funding for the task force. Maybe he wanted to fire up the public against the Morellis. Maybe those two detectives were starting to figure things out, and he needed them silenced.”
I added some more notes to the wall. When I turned back to Angelo, he was looking at me with respect.
“Alright,” he said. “Well, you know I haven’t believed it was my side from the start. But what you say is true, in that it doesn’tfeellike a Mob hit. Back in those bad old days that Hanson was talking about, anyone took out anyone, they were bragging about it before it even hit the news. We all knew exactly who’d killed whom, even if LE couldn’t make anything stick. But that’s not the same here. Conceivably it could be some well-meaning idiot from the lower ranks, but—”
“Could it, though?” I asked, and I started writing another set of notes on the wall. “The psychology there doesn’t fit for me either. To hearyoutell it, these Family Dons rule with iron fists. If anyone was stepping out of line, not only would they know about it by now, they would’ve put a stop to it if they didn’t approve. So—isthere any Don who would approve of this kind of killing?”
Angelo thought about it while he glanced over at the downloads. “Still a ways to go,” he murmured, then he looked up at me and said, “Right now, since Luca took over control—” He shot me a stern look. “Nothing I say leaves this room, by the way. But since then, everything has been more balanced in New York. The Families are all making money in the way they want to be. There are always grievances, naturally, but at heart, wearebusinessmen. We can put aside differences if it means mutual benefit.”
“Is that how you were able to forgive D’Amato for making buddies with the Clemenzas so quickly?” It slipped out before I’d really thought about what I was asking.
Angelo’s face clouded over. “You keep bringing that up. Like I told you before, it doesn’t work that way. Luca did what he did for the good of the Family, and for the good of New York City. There was too much bloodshed already and he was looking to avoid a war, not start one. And these days, Louis Clemenza’s the same way. I hate the man, and if I get a chance I’ll take him out slowly and painfully, but I won’t do that without the permission of my Boss, or if I think it will endanger the Family in any way. Understand?”
