The Penitent One (Boston Crime Thriller Book 3) by Brian Shea (most read books in the world of all time .txt) 📗

him. We're not doing it for Walsh or any of his cronies. We're doing it for the other victims on the list. The ones who deserve better, like Rourke and Tomlin. And if we’re lucky enough to grab the son of a bitch responsible by using a floating turd like Walsh as bait, then I’m all for it.”

Mainelli nodded. Barnes was shocked he was actually listening. Most of the time the gruff Italian only waited to talk and rarely listened to the words that came out of anybody else’s mouth.

“But still…you've got to admit," he said with a smile. "It'd be pretty damn great if Walsh got taken out by this guy and then we caught him right after the act."

“It’d definitely be two birds with one big stone. And it would save us a ton of paperwork.”

Mainelli’s smile edged up unevenly across his face, as if his left and right cheek were in an invisible tug of war. “Exactly.”

Anybody who’d worked with Jimmy Mainelli for more than a minute knew how much the salty detective loathed paperwork. Barnes knew she’d found his sweet spot.

Then the conversation faded back to an awkward silence.

Barnes was comfortable working with him. Not that they were close or overly friendly. It was strictly a working partnership, and not an unpleasant one. She'd come to know and like the portly detective, although his professionalism was lacking at times, as was his hygiene. Both were tolerable and both made him an acceptable, not exceptional, partner to have on a case.

What Mainelli lacked, Kelly made up for in spades. Among the three of them, a healthy investigative balance had been struck. But not lately.

Barnes had noticed that ever since she and Kelly had begun a dating relationship, or at least once Mainelli had picked up on it, his idle chitchat with her had dropped off. It was worse when they were alone. He’d become much more guarded and awkward.

She figured talking about it would be equally as awkward. Probably more so. Barnes had no intention of spending any portion of this eight-hour security detail discussing the ins and outs of her relationship with Michael Kelly and the effect it was having on Mainelli.

Barnes braced herself as Mainelli adjusted himself in his seat. It was his telltale sign he was about to pontificate. Again. She crossed her fingers and hoped that it wasn't on why they should be paid more, or how the cruisers needed to be updated. Those were his two go-to topics in times of strained silences.

"It's Gabriella," Mainelli said softly, looking down toward the steering column and not making eye contact with Barnes. He was intentionally avoiding looking at her.

Barnes leaned in, dipping her head in an effort to meet his eyes. "Is she okay, Jimmy? Is she sick?"

Mainelli went quiet for a moment. "No. She's leaving me." His voice was barely a whisper.

"What?" She knew he and his wife had a tumultuous relationship. She figured he was trying to live up to some stereotypical Italian way. The loud arguments he’d have over the phone at his work cubicle seemed more for show. And to Barnes, they’d been comical. All of their flareups appeared superficial and she never thought much of it. With three kids running amuck, who wouldn't have a bit of stress? But was the marriage the disintegrating kind?

What happened? was the first question that popped into Barnes's head. But she was a cautious speaker and knew better than to lead with that. She decided to just wait out Mainelli, and in time, he'd fill in whatever gaps he was comfortable with.

"That's why I've been a little bit late and looking like I slept in my car these past couple of weeks."

Barnes wanted to tell him he always looked that way but opted for a softer approach. “How long has this been going on?"

"I found out she was cheating on me with another guy. Get this. It was her personal trainer. The one I set up for her on her birthday.” Mainelli looked down at his midriff and gripped his girth with two hands, shaking his belly fat. "Guess I never had a chance. I knew I should've got a crockpot instead."

"What are your plans? Can't keep sleeping in your car." That was Barnes's way—stick to the practical, steer away from the emotional. She didn't need to deal with the unloading of that closet full of problems. She was no shrink. God knows she had enough things to deal with without adding Mainelli to the list. No, Barnes knew herself well enough to know she was much better at planning and strategizing than offering personal advice. And if someone was facing a divorce, what better time to do a little bit of life planning? They had plenty of hours to kill. She figured she'd give it a shot.

"She said she was going to go live with a sister in Revere, but I don't know. It's just, it happened so fast. It really is a lot to figure out. Just worried about my kids. I guess I could have done more."

Mainelli's voice was soft, softer than Barnes had ever heard him speak, and she found herself struggling to make out his mumbled words. It appeared, asked for or not, Mainelli was preparing to unload his emotional burden on her. Barnes sought to sidestep this, racking her mind for a change of topic. And the answer to her prayers arrived in the form of a florist truck.

It pulled to a stop in front of Walsh's home. The side was embossed in bright red and gold lettering that read Amelia’s Flowers. Tulip petals surrounded the words.

Walsh had a six-man, handpicked security team. Two covered the front door, while the remaining four were staggered at various points within the home. Walsh’s men. Walsh’s rules. The two men outside did not display any firepower, but Barnes knew they were armed. The larger one’s shirt bulged under his left armpit from the gun shoulder holstered underneath. She had watched