Dead Cold Mysteries Box Set #1: Books 1-4 (A Dead Cold Box Set) by Blake Banner (top 5 ebook reader .txt) 📗

talking, but I was only half listening because what I was reading had me totally engrossed.

She was leaning back in her chair with her eyes closed and her fingers laced behind her head. She was saying:

“We know from the mother superior, and from José, that Maria Garcia was an intelligent, sensitive girl with ambitions for herself and for her brother. We know that Nelson decided to take her as a sex slave. We know that Mick fell in love with her, in as much as an animal like that is capable of falling in love. Let’s say he became obsessed with her. So much we know and some of it we can maybe prove.”

“Mhm…”

“We know that Maria had a boyfriend who, if nothing else, had guts,” she went on. “He wanted to save her. Maybe he had a Galahad complex. Maybe he was just a nice guy. We know they stayed in touch even after Nelson forbade it, so the kid’s got balls. They’ve both got balls. So, here’s how it plays out…”

“Hm…”

“Nelson has his poker game coming up, and it’s a night when he is going to have a lot of cash in the place. Maria knows this. She’s desperate to escape, and she’s got the guts to do something about it. She has two options: make a plan with her boyfriend, or make a plan with Mick. A third option is do both.”

She opened her eyes and stood up, staring out of the window. I glanced at her and carried on reading.

“Sam, her boyfriend, however noble and gutsy he may be, is no match for Nelson and the Sureños—and Irish Mick. So, she’s smart and she makes a plan with Mick. She makes like she’s falling for him too—it’s becoming mutual. She tells him about the money, and they plan to wipe out Nelson and escape to Mexico together. Meanwhile, she makes a second plan with Sam. After the showdown, she’ll dump Mick in Mexico and come back for Sam and José.

“At the game, she lets Mick in. He comes in with Kirk and two other guys. My money is on two Italians. They blow Nelson away, leave the Bronx open for Vincenzo to move in, because without Mick, the Triads can’t operate here. The Italians go back home, and Mick leaves with Maria. Pro makes a big smokescreen, and the killing goes unsolved.” She turned to face me. “Maria tries to leave Mick and come back for Sam and José. He ain’t having it, and he kills her.”

I looked up from the papers I was reading.

“Hm…? That is excellent, Carmen. Really, very good. Let’s go.”

She sighed and followed me. “Anywhere in particular?”

“Why, naturally, to Brooklyn.”

“Naturally.”

I took the I-87 toward Randall’s Island and the Robert F. Kennedy Bridge. While I drove, I said, “Last couple of days I’ve been meaning to do some research, but there was always something else more important to do.”

“Life’s like that.” She said it with some asperity, so I ignored her.

“Nelson was killed on November 13, 2007.” She looked at me with curiosity. I went on. “We’ve been working increasingly on the assumption that Mick killed him. So I thought it might be a good idea to find out where Mick was that night.”

She sighed. “Oh, shit…”

“Kirk had been off sick for a few days. Remember he said that? So Mick was partnered temporarily with another detective. They were on duty that night. At one in the morning, they were called out to a homicide. While they were on that case, Sam was called out to Nelson’s. You couldn’t buy a better alibi.”

She was silent for a long time. As we crossed the Calvary Cemetery, she wound down her window and let the air beat her about a bit. I liked the idea and did the same. She said, above the buffeting of the air, “It’s like a fucking Rubik’s Cube.”

“It gets better.”

She stared at me, biting her lip, and asked, “Where are we going now?”

I smiled. “To Prospect Park, Fourteenth Avenue. To have a chat with the victim’s mother.”

Twenty minutes later, we stood on her stoop and rang the bell. She opened the door and peered at us curiously. She had gray hair and a string of pearls around her neck. “Can I help you?” she asked.

We showed her our badges. “I wonder if you could spare us a few minutes of your time, Mrs. Bernstein. It won’t take long, but we have some questions…”

She stood back, pulling the door open. “Of course, please come in. If I can be of any help.”

She led us into an overstuffed living room with photographs covering every available surface. She pointed us at an imitation Louise XIV suite. “Can I get you some coffee?” She made it sound like “caw-fee.”

We said she couldn’t, and she sat.

“Mrs. Bernstein, I know this must be painful for you, but we have reason to believe that your son’s murder ten years ago may be connected to another homicide that occurred that night.”

She put her hands to her mouth and spoke from behind her fingers. “My Sam…?”

“We believe he had a girlfriend…”

“Oh yes. She was a lovely girl. I told him not to marry her, but he wouldn’t listen. She was a Catholic…” She gestured at me. “I don’t know, maybe you’re a Catholic and no offence.” She turned to Dehan. “I can see you’re Jewish and you know what I’m talking about. You’re best sticking to your own, but he was in love, so what can you do? It’s love. She was also poor.”

“What was her name, Mrs. Bernstein?”

“Maria. Catholic name. Lovely girl. Beautiful.” She shrugged. “Mexican. Sweet, you know? Real tender.”

“Maria Garcia?”

“Like I said, Mexican. They set a date and everything. Then there was some kind of problem. He didn’t want to