A uniformed officer had brought Ericka to the house. It seemed officers kept coming and going and random times with no rhyme or reason. But Ericka had a reason for being there. Joey could see it in her face.
As she knelt before Mamma, Joey picked up his mother’s hand and squeezed. The explanation that came was not what he expected.
“She what?”
Mamma was back in her chair and on the lanai once more. The house was too messed up for her to roll around. Ericka was telling her about Sofia, no Janice. Joey was offering comfort, but probably could have used some himself.
Ericka repeated the information again this time with more detail. “Mrs. Demarco, Mary, your daughter Sofia Melina was killed in a car accident three years ago. Janice Ferman was her college roommate. She assumed Sofia’s identity to scam you out of money, but she got greedy. She sold Tony out to the Rosa Cartel.”
Mary gasped and covered her open mouth with her trembling hand.
Joey massaged his mother’s hand. The information was too much.
Ericka looked like she wanted to offer comfort but abstained. He wasn’t sure he wanted comfort from her, but then again, he wasn’t sure he didn’t.
Joey’s phone vibrated.
Frankie had texted that Mickey was out of surgery and doing well. He read the text aloud, then looked at his phone.
There was another text.
From Sofia.
Sorry for everything. Be careful. Carlo is…
“Raul Rosa—”
Pain radiated in Joey’s chest. He struggled to get the words out. “It wasn’t Raul. It was Carlo Ricci. Papa’s consigliere. Friend of the family. Carlo.”
The family he thought he’d known. The family he’d thought he had. It had all been a lie. They weren’t loyal, they were just out for themselves.
This world would keep them under until they cracked or died. They had to get out.
****
Greg hadn’t had any trouble informing Janice Ferman’s family of her demise, because she didn’t have any family. She’d left them when she was fourteen and never looked back. And they had never even reported her missing. Her father had called her a troublemaker on the phone and hung up on him.
So now he and Quinn were outside the Demarco mansion. The gatekeeper opened the door and let him pass without too much fuss. He climbed from the car and straightened his suit jacket. He walked through the house. The glass had been cleaned up and the windows boarded. No one was inside the house. Everyone seemed to be outside on the lanai.
As Greg entered, he overheard Joey’s admission. He motioned for Quinn to follow and they went straight to the back of the house and outside. The group of three barely looked up as he said, “Take the phone.”
Quinn looked at Joey and held out his hand.
Joey handed it over. “Password is 5683 or love.”
He was staring at Ericka as he made the confession. Greg understood the feeling. Ericka was impossible to resist. The wonder was how he’d done it so long, despite not wanting to.
“Check the text and make sure it’s legit,” Ericka was telling Quinn as Greg drew closer.
She was right. The last thing they needed was to go after Carlo Ricci when Raul Rosa and his crew were to blame or vice versa.
Greg joined the group. “Ericka, we need to track down Raul Rosa and Carlo Ricci and bring them in for questioning.”
“Who are you to bring to bring in Carlo?” Frankie had entered and was coming toward them.
“Frankie…”
“Joey, you hush. We won’t let them blame Carlo for this.”
“Sofia, or I guess really Janice, texted before she was killed. She gave Carlo’s name. Why would she do that if he wasn’t responsible?” Joey was massaging his face.
Mamma started to cry. Frankie bent close. Mary must have explained because Frankie looked up, snapped his fingers, and ordered the first man who arrived to find Carlo and bring him there.
He looked at Greg and Ericka. “We’ll deal with this.”
“No, I’m afraid not.” Greg turned to leave.
Quinn followed. Outside he got into a different car.
Ericka glanced at Joey once then went outside. In the car she leaned her head back. “I’d rather not do that again.”
“Sadly, the next part won’t be any more fun.”
He pulled out behind a black SUV. They stopped in front of a white two story mansion three streets over.
“Carlo Ricci’s house.”
Frankie’s henchman exited his vehicle, and Greg stepped out of the car quickly.
“Son, I’m sorry but this not for you to do.”
“My names, Sonny, and Frankie ordered me to.”
“I’ll make sure he understands that we stopped you.”
Ericka walked around them both.
The door opened.
****
Carlo stood in the open doorway with a tank top undershirt stretched across his considerable girth. Barbeque stains dotted the shirt. Not a big surprise since he was carrying a barbequed chicken leg.
He took a big bite. “What do you want?”
Ericka wiped a dot of sauce from her arm. She hadn’t expected any help from Carlo, and it seemed she wouldn’t be getting any.
“We need you to come down to the station.”
He looked down. She followed his gaze.
He was wiggling his bare toes. “Can I at least cover my piggies?”
She wanted to jerk his arm and pull him from the house, but she would do nothing that would ruin the case against him in the future.
Greg appeared at her side.
She pointed at his feet. “He wants to cover his piggies.”
“I see. Mind if we come in and look around while you, um, cover your piggies?”
Carlo grinned, displaying a gold tooth. He opened the door wider and gestured with his chicken leg. “Be my guest.”
Greg entered first. Maybe he thought there would be a gun directed at them, but they needn’t have worried.
Carlo followed Greg and then Ericka brought up the rear. Carlo went to a white leather couch and plopped down. He placed his chicken on a plate on the coffee table, whipped his hand on a napkin, and then slipped his feet into a pair of loafers. Before standing, he grabbed a button up shirt off the back of the couch and ran his arms through the holes.
They had yet to get a search warrant. That meant Carlo had even more time to dispose of the evidence, if there was any. What kind of man killed a young girl then went home and had a plate of chicken? A psychopath or a genius, that was who.
A phone rang. Carlo removed his phone and frowned. The phone kept ringing.
“Are you going to answer that?”
“Later.” His voice was gruff. He looked away from his desk and started moving toward the front door, almost as if he wanted them to leave.
Ericka thought she saw another phone on the desk, but the ringing stopped, and Greg was right behind the fleeing Carlo. So, she followed them out of the spotless house.
The cursory look around hadn’t revealed anything to her, except that Carlo had an immaculate home.
The ride to the station consisted of Carlo complaining that he was shoved in the backseat like some kind of criminal.
Ericka would have loved to have gagged the man while giving a brief explanation about the fact that he was indeed a criminal and was being treated better than he deserved. Even if he hadn’t killed Janice there was good evidence located in the case file that he’d killed others.
They parked the car. Ericka removed a cuffed Carlo and walked him to the lobby and into the elevator. The music got in her head, and she tried not to hum.
The doors opened on a random floor. Maggie was waiting outside the room like she belonged. It must be the office that Greg said they would use to maintain their own secrecy.
They immediately escorted Carlo to the interrogation room and exited. Maggie entered the room not long afterward.
Carlo liked young women, or so they had been told. And Maggie was young, dark skinned, and beautiful.
Ericka and Greg watched from the observation room. Maggie took her time straightening her skirt, tugging on her jacket, and bending over. She was giving the nasty old man a good look and trying to soften him before the questions began.
“She’s got his attention.”
Greg was right. Carlo was practically salivating.
Maggie settled in the seat and crossed her legs, which hitched up her skirt and showed a decent amount of toned leg. Carlo’s eyes were riveted in one spot. The hem.
“Mr. Ricci, thank you for coming in today.”
“Uh-huh.” His gaze didn’t waver.
“I just have a few questions.”
“Sure, little lady.”
Maggie wiggled but didn’t bristle at the term. “How well did you know Janice Ferman?”
“Who?” His eyes still didn’t move.
How long could he look at that one spot? Apparently, a long time.
“Janice Ferman, maybe you know her as Sofia Melina.”
Now he moved. He leaned to the side and spat.
“So you know her?”
“If you mean that lying gold digger, then yes. I told Tony to get rid of her as soon as she showed up, but he wouldn’t listen. If his old lady was happy then he was happy.”
“Miss Ferman was found dead today. Would you happen to know anything about that?”
Carlo gave no indication of guilt, he only cocked his brow and said, “Is that right?”
“Yes.”
“Well, it’s not surprising. I mean, if Frankie found out that she was scamming his mother—”
“Shortly before Miss Ferman’s death, she sent a text to Joey Demarco.”
Carlo’s eyes narrowed.
“Mr. Demarco’s home then suffered an attack from heavy gunfire.”
Carlo jumped to his feet and slammed his hands on the table’s surface. “Then you need to release me! I need to see if they are okay.”
“Oh, the family is just fine.”
“I’m the consigliere, if Frankie or Joey are injured—”
“Then you would take control.”
He leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. “Of course, that is the job of the consigliere.”
“Worked out pretty good for you. You convinced Janice to play the Rosa Cartel to get rid of Tony Demarco. Then you spread the money lie to keep Demarco held longer. This gave you the time you needed, but not the power. But Janice was a lose end. That’s why you killed her.”
Ericka leaned in. Carlo would never admit his involvement in either plot.
He leaned back in the chair and crossed his arms over his wrinkled shirt. A grin covered his chubby jowled face.
Nope, he was never going to admit anything.
Another dead end.