Nikki leaned back in the chair. “I get that.” She bit into the donut.
“There’s a cold case from five years ago that I’d like to review.”
“Is it related to the Chenkus case?”
“No,” Simone replied.
“I’m having a terrific sugar high, so lay it on me.”
“The Santini murders.”
Nikki hopped on her computer. “When?”
After Simone gave her the details, Nikki pulled it up and spun the monitor so they could read the file together.
In August, five years earlier, a car exploded at the Santini home, killing all three occupants. Twenty-five-year-old Linda Santini and her two children, four-year-old Marco Santini and two-year-old Caterina Santini, were killed in the explosion. Luciano Santini, the alleged head of the Santini crime family, had taken his wife’s vehicle to the mechanic for repairs. He was at the repair shop at the time of the explosion. Cleared as a suspect, he was presumed by police to be the intended target.There were no persons of interest and no leads from those brought in for questioning.
“That’s tragic,” Nikki said. “They were all so young.”
“Yeah,” Simone murmured, her chest tightening.
These three were his entire world. His heart would never completely be hers. She would always share it with them, but she understood that it had to be this way.
His grief and survivor guilt must be overwhelming.
“I can forward everything to you.” Nikki shifted her attention to Simone. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, sure.”
“You don’t look okay. You wanna talk about it?”
“Mr. Santini is a friend of mine. He’s gone legit and now runs Santini International.”
“No way,” Nikki said. “I love his clothes and treat myself to something nice when stress-eating isn’t enough.”
Simone was wearing one of the pantsuits he’d bought for her. “The clothesarebeautiful.”
“It’s good you’re looking into it,” Nikki said. “Cold cases need fresh eyes.”
“I’ll see what I can dig up, and I’ll keep you posted,” Simone said.
“I’m happy to help out any way I can.” Nikki glanced at the report. “The arson detective is still around, but the homicide detective isn’t.”
Nikki’s desk phone rang. “Excuse me one second.” She answered, “Commander Cardoso.” As she listened, she jotted a few notes, asked a few questions, then hung up.
“I’ve gotta head out,” Nikki said. “Possible suicide, but it’s high profile, so I’ve been called to the scene.”
“So much for that donut,” Simone said.
“I know. Suicides are tough for me.” The color drained from Nikki’s face. “My dad committed suicide.”
“I’m so sorry.” Simone’s gaze dropped to Nikki’s notes, and the name of the deceased caught her attention. “Does that say Cary Newburg?”
“Yeah, I’m surprised you can read my writing.”
Her guts twisted.
Peter, are you behind this?
