“Wonder if it worked. Computer, was subject’s father Anthony DeSalvo of the purported organized crime family?”
DeSalvo, Anthony, father of subject, alleged captain in DeSalvo family, alleged to be Mafia-based with interests in illegals, weapons running, protection. DeSalvo, Anthony, garroted 2044, rival Santini family suspected of ordering his execution. Brief gang war followed with several deaths and/or disappearances of purported members. No arrests or convictions made. Do you want full case files?
“Not at this time.” Eve walked over to Roarke’s doorway. “I’ve got a hot one.”
“I’ve got bleeding nothing. Let’s see yours.”
He walked in, stood as she did, studying the data with his thumbs hooked in his front pocket. “Ah, yes, the feuding DeSalvo and Santini clans.”
“Know any of them?”
“I’ve made the acquaintance of a few over the years. They’ve learned to give me a wide berth.”
The casual way he said it, the utter disregard in his tone, reminded Eve once more how dangerous Roarke could be. Yeah, she thought, she bet the wiser of the wise guys gave him a wide berth.
“In any case,” he continued, “they’re fairly small-time. Bullies and posturers and greedy hotheads. Which is why they’re small-time. This family tree and the bloody roots of it would make your current subject of interest to Ava Anders, I’d think. She comes from a family that murders as part of their standard business practices. She’s had her own bumps with the law, served time. How’d her husband die?”
“Good question. Computer, details on the death of Petrelli, Luca.”
Working…Petrelli, Luca, COD fractured skull. Accompanying injuries: broken jaw, broken nose, broken fingers, both hands, broken leg, arm, shoulder. Severe facial injuries, contributory internal injuries. Body was found in the East River near Hunts Point, June 12, 2047.
“Beat the bastard to death,” Eve commented. “Computer, was Petrelli known to be or suspected of being connected to organized crime?”
No connection known. Suspected due to relationship with Petrelli, Bebe. None found through surveillance or other investigative methods. Petrelli, Luca, owned and operated, with wife, Bebe’s, a restaurant in Hunts Point, Bronx. No criminal record on Petrelli, Luca.
“So she marries clean,” Roarke speculated. “Has a couple of kids, opens a restaurant. Not in Queens, where her family claims its contested turf, but in the Bronx. Away from that. Away from them. Then someone beats her man to death.”
“And with two kids to raise, money tight, a spotted record, the blood ties, it’s hard to make ends meet.” Eve eased a hip down on her desk, absently stroking a hand over the cat when he bumped his head against her arm. “Hard to soldier on. You’d be grateful to someone who offered a hand, who didn’t hold the past against you. Looks like Peabody and I are heading up to the Bronx in the morning. Computer, list Bebe Petrelli as a person of interest, copy all data to file. Send copy of same to Peabody, Detective Delia, home unit.”
“You won’t be stopping there.”
“No, but that sure gave me a boost. I think it’s time we took a break and had ourselves some pie.”
“It’s always time for pie.” He glanced over as the house ’link beeped. “Yes, Summerset?”
“Dr. Dimatto and Mr. Monroe are at the gate.”
“Let them in. Oh, and we’ll have the pie the lieutenant brought home, with coffee for our guests. In the parlor.”
“I’ll see to it.”
“How come people can drop by out of the blue and get pie?” Eve wondered.
“Because we’re such warm and welcoming hosts.”
“No, that’s you. And it’s my pie. Technically.” She looked over at the work on her desk with the cat currently sprawled over it all. “Well, hell, I wanted to talk to Charles anyway. Computer, send a notification to Detective Peabody. Report, my home office eight hundred—no, strike, seven hundred thirty hours. Dallas, Lieutenant Eve.”
Acknowledged.
“Run next subject, store data.” Eve shrugged. “I’ll get a little jump on it while we’re being warm and welcoming hosts. Anyway, Petrelli was in this fashion show Ava sponsored, attended a number of the one-and two-day mom breaks, one of the five-day retreats just last summer, and both her kids have attended sports camps three years running.”
“Solid connection,” Roarke agreed as they started out of the office.
“Last year both of the kids were awarded Anders scholarships. They’re in private schools now—Anders pays the freight as long as they meet academic standards and stay out of trouble. That’s a lot of motive, a lot of reasons for Petrelli to keep Anders happy. A lot of reasons to be grateful.”
“Use the children, particularly the children.” Such things always burned in his belly. “Here’s what I’ll give your boys, here’s how your boys can be educated, the opportunities they can have if you just do this little thing for me.”
“It clicks pretty good.”