“Where are you?”
Cai’s voice had a pleading push, as if she were desperately hoping I was in the coffee shop downstairs.
“I’m in the car on the north side, heading back toward downtown now. What’s wrong?”
“He’s at it again. This Twitter guy. Can you come over?”
“I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
My mind racing, I turned east on Irving Park Road to get to The Drive and sprinted south as quickly as traffic allowed me, feeling my blood pressure skyrocket with each mile. Rushing into Cai’s building, I paced impatiently at the desk while the doorman called upstairs.
“What happened?” I shot the question at Cai the minute she opened her door.
Her face was pale and her eyes tense with a level of worry I hadn’t seen in her before. There was almost a sense about her that whatever was going to happen was something she couldn’t stop.
“Come on in, I’ll show you.”
I followed her into her living room where a glorious blue sky and the even bluer water of Lake Michigan contrasted with the mood of the room. We sat on the sofa, and she picked up her phone, tapping the screen a few times before handing it to me.
Zipsdefender. His account page listed at least a dozen tweets over the past two hours. Corrupt attorneys need to know their place. Nothing will end well for those who overstepped their bounds. I’m watching your every move!
He had released another flurry of tweets, some tagging Cai, others ranting at the general unfairness of the court system. This tranche, unlike the previous, was bringing his venom directly to Cai and to the Cook County court system. Neither Elmwood Park nor Farnsworth had made the cut.
“What do I do?” Cai asked, her face searching mine. “I keep thinking about the way Reynolds was gunned down right before our eyes. I can’t get those pictures out of my head.”
My mind was in the same place, but I didn’t dare admit that to her. She was frightened and, by the look in her eyes, already feeling trapped.
“First of all, keep doing exactly what you’re doing and stay right here,” I said, trying to steady my voice as my own fear clutched my chest.
“For how long? I can’t live my life waiting for some random creep to come after me. What am I supposed to do, hide indefinitely? Start carrying a gun? Hire a bodyguard? I don’t want to live like that. I can’t work like that, Andrea. I can’t hold a job like that. My clients aren’t going to understand. Neither is my boss.”
I didn’t know what to tell her. As much as I wanted to promise that Zipsdefender was not dangerous or that I could find him or stop him before he did something awful, I’d be lying if I did. Anything I said to try to assure her she had nothing to worry about would sound like a weak attempt to placate her. And it would be.
“I promise I’m doing everything I can to figure this out,” I said, choosing the only words that were appropriate, honesty. “I’m making progress, but I’m not there yet. I know it’s hard to be patient when this guy is coming at you, but you’re safe here.”
“Safe? I’m a prisoner. I jump every time I hear someone in the hall. Every time the phone rings. I’m afraid to sleep, thinking there is someone on my balcony. It’s insane, of course. No one is playing Spider-Man, trying to swing down from the top of a forty-story building to get at me. But I can’t shut it off. I don’t know what’s happening to me.”
She closed her eyes and tilted her head up to the ceiling, letting out a breath.
“Look, I still think Panici is behind this account. Can I prove it? Not yet, but I’m trying. I know you have the front desk trained to call you before anyone is allowed upstairs. I’m going to suggest that you give them a picture of Panici and ask them to call the police if he shows up.”
She shook her head.
“On what grounds?” she said. “He hasn’t threatened me directly. There is no restraining order. Hell, we couldn’t even get Michael to look into this. Why would CPD do anything?”
Her reference to Michael stung. I hadn’t even been able to convince my own boyfriend, if he was still my boyfriend, of the legitimacy of the threat. I was letting Cai down. I was letting myself down. And if anything happened, it would be on me.
“True,” I said. “There is nothing on record that proves Panici is a danger to you. But CPD won’t know that until after they get here. If you feel threatened, make the call, sort out the legitimacy of the threat later. It creates an obstacle, and sometime that’s enough. Panici has no legitimate reason to know where you live or to show up at your home, so if he does, he’s proving he’s involved. It’s not much consolation, but if he shows up, assume he’s a threat and act accordingly.”
I’d never seen her without that internal fight, the one that said, “I can do anything, just watch me.”
“Screenshot those tweets and send them to me,” I said. “Don’t let anyone come to your door that you don’t know, not even food delivery. The staff can bring it up and leave it outside your door. I’m going to go back to the office, and I’ll figure this out. I’ll get some big, muscley guy over here if you want him. Just say the word. Please stay put.”
I could hear the pleading in my own voice. The conflict of fear and frustration weighed heavy in her, and I worried that frustration would overshadow caution.
“I’ll check in later. I know it feels like nothing’s happening, but there is. I promise.”
I leaned over and gave her a hug. She gripped my shoulders, and we sat, both scared and uncertain and hoping to hell I could fix this.
I stood, gathered my bag, and headed for the door, holding back my tears until I heard her click the deadbolt behind me.
Damn Panici! Damn Rastello! Damn Gaetano! Damn Michael!
I flew back into my office at Link-Media, my mind blinded to anything other than trying to stop Cai from being hurt. Whatever it took, I had to make sure she was okay.
A bottle of lukewarm Pellegrino in hand, I stared at my wall, desperate for a connection I wasn’t seeing, a detail I’d missed, a name, a place, anything that would break through and help me find the next piece of this puzzle. I was confident I had connected the men, all of them, and I knew they were not above bribery to get what they wanted. But would they kill to get what they wanted? That was an entirely new level of evil. And what was it they really wanted?
I stared at Panici’s picture. He was mean and narcissistic and capable of revenge. But he wasn’t the trigger man. Instinct told me pros had done the dirty work for him. The other missing element was motive. The APR Holdings development had made money for the early buyers when they flipped. APR would make money as the project developed, and both The Chicken Shack and Abbiocco would have an additional location, but was any of this worth killing for?
“You still working on that art project?”
Borkowski was at my door, giving me one of his “Are you doing any work?” looks. He wore his uniform of white button-down and khakis, but a dribble of old coffee trailed down alongside his tie.
“It’s a story, Art. A big one. Cut the shit already. Somewhere in here is the answer to why two judges have been murdered, why my friend is being threatened by some Twitter creep who calls himself Zipsdefender, why a real estate developer and a construction company are trying to bribe judges and an alderman, and why a chicken joint and a pizzeria are in the center of it all.”
I let loose on him, unable to hold back. My worry about Cai and my frustration over not being able to see the missing links spilled out in a torrent. I had no patience for his condescending snark today.
He stared at me for a moment, eyebrows raised. “Well, then, let’s get on it. What is known? An alderman taking a bribe is a given. They all are. It’s just a question of which one this time.”
“I know the players, at least most of them, I think,” I said. “Striker Farnsworth is the alderman in question. No surprise there, but as you say, it’s just a matter or degrees. They can all be purchased. Other parties include people in the construction industry. I’ve got a real estate development project in the mix that is playing fast and loose with permitting, trying to alter zoning, and it all ties back to The Chicken Shack guy, too.”
“All right. Those are threads worth exploring. What are the holes in the story?”
“Motive. No direct evidence. And I don’t know who this Zipsdefender guy is.”
“Motive, in this case, is likely greed or power, so who has the most to gain from the death of some judges? The guys developing the project, I imagine. And I’m sure they are at the top of your list. The question is whether this is coordinated or an individual going off the rails.”
“A number of people gain from this, so I’m thinking coordinated. Or at least condoned by others, even if they weren’t complicit in the murders directly. If I had a better idea of how much money was at stake, I’d feel more comfortable with that theory.”
“You have substantial holes, but I can help with one part. The tweeter guy is clearly Italian.”
“How do you know that?”
“Zips. It’s an old mobster slur. The established Italian mobsters described the new Sicilian immigrants as ‘Zips’ when they came into the country. They didn’t understand their speech pattern and thought it zipped by. The new arrivals were thought of as hicks and looked down upon. So this Twitter guy is saying he’s a defender of Sicilian hicks.”
“That makes sense, given the players. This guy also uses the phrase ‘keeper of the keys’ in his profile. Any thoughts?”
“I’d say he thinks he’s the gatekeeper. All roads lead to him.”