“And your friend, Ringo, spends alotof time there.”
“How thick is the file on my grandfather?”
Bridget raised an eyebrow.
“I mean, is it as thick, or thicker than the files you have on Mario and his family?I’m curious.”
She clammed up.
“Because I would guess my grandfather’s file, or files have to be at least five, six-seven binders full.Probably more.And yet, he never served any time in prison, never was brought up on charges.He filed his taxes religiously, and even after seventeen lawsuits, I’m a still getting my trust monies.Why is that?”
I didn’t let her talk.“I’ll tell you.Because the mob?It’s gone legit.They got tired of going to jail.And people like my grandfather helped them do that.And now?You don’t have shit on any of them.”
“Why did five members of the Conti crime organization go missing four days ago?”
“Who?”
“Never mind.What I’m saying is that Mario, his family, and hisfriends, are rumored to be elite hitmen.The kind they make movies out of.And within a couple of days of Ringo Devlin arriving in Chicago, five criminals disappear.”
I was going to strangle that bastard.
“And, we can’t seem to find your ex.”She tipped her head as if to convey some pointed message.
And, yes, I got the words loud and clear.I had a newly decorated apartment, brand new bed so fresh it still smelled like the warehouse, and an assassin boyfriend who was the jealous sort.Of course, Bridget didn’t know that part.
“Let’s talk about my ex.Why can’t you find him, and what did he do that youwantto find him?”I asked.
She didn’t mince words.“He killed Adelmo Conti.His accomplice in that murder was Adelmo’s sister, Dianora Conti.She’s being held in Italy for the murder of her father.It appears she attempted a coup.But then, as her father lingered on his deathbed, he changes his will and names one…I kid you not on this…one Ringo Devlin as his illegitimate son and orders the American holdings transferred to his name.
“You’re in this thick, Ellie.I wish I knew why.”
That would make two of us.“I get it, I’m some criminal mastermind using the bar as a front.Right?”
“No, the bar is legit.Either that, or you’ve built up a hell of a cover story.I mean, winning the lottery, that’s hard to fake.”
Because it wasn’t faked.I’d been so frightened of losing Jaja’s money that I tried to lose it myself.That way I wouldn’t miss it and could only blame myself.“What’s your angle?”
Bridget sighed and stared at her coffee.“At first, I wanted to break open a case so tied up it had stymied whole departments for decades.Then they started changing things.”She frowned.
“Like what?”
“Don’t ask.Long story short, you can’t think for yourself, you can’t have friends who are themselves, and you certainly can’t have any loyalty to the mission anymore.Thereisno mission.It’s close your eyes, toe the line, and cross your fingers that you’re not going to be swept up in a fraud case.Or made an ‘example’ of as they kick your ass to the curb with barely a compensatory settlement.”
“You should talk to Casey.He’s got stories about stuff like that.”
“Interesting that you bring him up.You collect washed up anti-establishment types.”
“Just call me Robin Hood.”
Bridget shook her head.“You’re not.What you are is someone with a good beef against the kind of assholes with badges who think kids are fair game to target.”
“Huh, you actually did read my file.”
“One of the last things I did before getting fired.”
Yikes.“I hope that wasn’t the trigger.”
“It might have been.I was digging into a money laundering scheme that pointed at Adelmo Conti and his company.When he abruptly died, my case was dead.But I visited the impound lot to look at the car that got mangled in the accident.And what do I discover?Bullet holes in the seat.”
