The Innocents by Nathan Senthil (autobiographies to read .TXT) 📕

pistol. A bit too late. Gabriel already had his Glock drawn, aiming at his center of mass.

Roman barked something in Italian, making the bodyguard retreat with a sour expression.

As Roman waddled inside, Gabriel followed closely. He plodded around to the back of the bar counter, and the barkeeper skulked to obscurity.

“So?” Roman said. “What can I do for you?”

Gabriel holstered his gun, but neither buckled the strap nor turned off the safety. “Tell me what you know about Lolly and my dad, Joshua Chase.”

Roman scratched his temple. “Sorry, never heard of them.”

He was one of the worst liars Gabriel had encountered in his career.

“I can prove otherwise,” Gabriel said nonchalantly.

Roman pointed at the CCTV behind with his thumb lazily. “It doesn’t work. The ones outside don’t either. Unfortunately, they are all broken.”

“No need,” Gabriel said. “We traced my dad’s movement from his cell phone.”

Cockiness gone, Roman licked his dry lips.

With a mocking smile, Gabriel continued, “He was around your bar when he made his last call to me.”

Roman’s Adam apple bobbed. “You’ve got no right to come here and question me. You’re no DPD.”

Gabriel nodded in agreement. “You’re correct about the second part. I’m not the Detroit PD.” From his jeans, he pulled his new ID out and brandished it. “But you’re wrong about the first. I have the right to ask questions where-ever-the-fuck I want.”

Roman stared at the shiny shield, as if it were a snake getting ready to spring out and bite him. “You… uh, you’re with the FBI?”

“Nothing escapes your eyes, does it?” Gabriel put it back. The Mafia and the Feds never got along well, and it always ended badly for the former. Maybe Roman hadn’t expected Gabriel to be a Fed.

After a few long moments of thinking, Roman said, “Your father told me you were NYPD.”

“So you do know my dad?” Gabriel asked.

“He said nothing about no FBI.”

“He—” Gabriel began but his voice failed him; he cleared his throat and tried again. “He didn’t tell you because he was shot in the face before he knew.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, I really am. Your father seemed like a really great man,” Roman said. “We all need to catch Lolly before he does any more damage.”

“Couldn’t agree more,” Gabriel said. “First tell me what my dad was doing here.”

Roman lifted his hands. “Fine, fine. He asked me about a truck robbery that my associates might have had a part on.” And Roman explained about the Livernois hijacking and what Lolly did to their Don. Which Gabriel already knew from the notebook.

When Roman was finished, Gabriel leaned over the table, and whispered, “Give me your card. I’m sure we can work something out.”

Roman gawked at Gabriel who winked in return.

He let out a breath and laughed, muttering something. It was evident that he was relieved. Then he said, “I got no card.” He wrote his number on a piece of paper and slid it across the table. “We want Lolly.”

“Why?”

“Just like to meet our old friend is all.” Roman shrugged.

Gabriel pocketed the paper and stood straight. “Is that wise, though?”

“Huh?” Roman frowned.

“I mean, the last time you and your boss met with Lolly, it didn’t end well for either of you, did it?”

Roman’s face reddened, either in embarrassment or anger. He said, “You just bring him to us, and we’ll make sure you never need to work for money ever again.”

Gabriel also knew about the humongous bounty Bugsy put on Lolly. It was twenty times higher than the government’s reward.

“Alright, fine. I’ll bring your old friend here,” Gabriel said, smirking. “But don’t you know what they say? ‘Be careful what you wish for.’”

Not waiting for an answer, he turned back and walked out of the bar.

Chapter 29

May 10, 2019. 10:43 A.M.

While returning from Calabria, Gabriel placed his ear on Bill’s door. No TV, no crying fits. Just the strong vibration of fatigued sleep.

Unwilling to wake him up, Gabriel went to his room. He pulled out his rucksack and rummaged through it. Gabriel’s NYPD shield shone from inside. He had requested his old captain that he held onto it until he caught Lolly and the good captain allowed him to. Gabriel retrieved Joshua’s dog-eared notebook and sat back on the bed.

Its cover was the picture of a snow-peak mountain. The binding must have come loose at some point, which Joshua had tried to fix by stitching with twine. The ill-advised DIY had bound the papers together a little too tight for comfort.

Gabriel was hit by Joshua’s scribblings. Every time he opened the notebook, the lines, the indentation, the scratches, the side notes, they all hurt Gabriel. As his fingers traced over the words, he thought, why couldn’t your old ass just play Yahtzee or watch reality TV?

He chortled but felt the corner of his eye prick.

No!

Weeping should only be done in the bathroom or at nighttime. Now he had work to do.

Sniffling, Gabriel skimmed through page one. It contained details of the robbery which the FBI had thought was Lolly’s first until Joshua discovered the 1981 cash van ambush on the bridge.

However, this page had info pertaining to the 1982 case—the bank Lolly’s gang robbed, the amount of money they bagged, the car they used, where they discarded it, and what possible routes they might have taken afterwards.

There was also a list of evidence—shoe prints, casings, slugs, GSR, glove prints, the whole nine yards.

Also included were the victims’ names and their kin; the witnesses and their addresses; the investigating officers’ names and pager/phone numbers.

Each robbery filled a page, sometimes two. But as the years passed, the number of pages increased, as new criminal investigative techniques came into practice. Still, Lolly beat them all, apparently keeping abreast with the technological advancements