Motives
Brooklyn—Current Day
The day after Donnie Amato’s body was discovered, Donovan was called into Morreau’s office. “You wanted me, Lieu?”
Morreau picked up a piece of paper from his desk and held it before him. “I got a report from Kate Burns that your DNA is at the scene of several of these crimes.”
“Lieu, I can explain—”
Lieutenant Morreau got up and shoved the door shut, his voice raised a level or two when he continued. “What is there to explain? We’ve got your DNA at a scene you never investigated. Give me one good explanation.”
Frankie laid his gun on the desk, then set his badge beside it. “Here you go, Lieu. I’m done.” He headed for the door.
“Donovan. Get your ass back here.”
Frankie turned but kept his hand on the doorknob. “I’ve had it up to my ass with all of you. First the FBI and their goddamn wires, then all the bullshit you run. Now I’m a suspect on my own case. Fuck you.”
“If you’ll sit for a minute, I can explain,” Morreau said.
Frankie was hesitant, but he sat.
“I’m sorry about the way I approached the DNA thing, but I had to see your reaction. You’d have done the same thing, and don’t deny it.”
Frankie nodded, and Morreau went on. “Kate did tell me about finding your DNA, but she also told me that my DNA was found too—and I know I wasn’t on the scene. So unless you planted mine, or I planted yours, someone is fucking with us.”
Frankie leaned forward. “And doing a damn good job of it.”
Morreau held out his hand. “So, we good?”
“Yeah, Lieu, we’re good. I guess.”
“So tell me how this killer is getting our DNA to spread over crime scenes. And after that, tell me the real reason why you want off this case. You dumped that badge on my desk like it was hurting you.”
The last bit took Frankie by surprise. He sat silent for a moment, thinking.
You’re either a cop or a gangster. Make up your mind.
“I don’t want off the case. I just want to get it solved. So if that’s all you got, I’m heading out.”
“No, that’s not all,” Morreau said. “I didn’t want you on this to begin with, but the captain insisted on you as the lead. I’ve backed you even though I haven’t seen shit. And you’re walking around here like the goddamn Lone Ranger hoarding data on the case as if you’re the only one that matters.” He slammed his fist on the desk so hard the glass rattled. “That’s not the way things work around here, Detective. Not in my fucking house they don’t.” Morreau looked ready to go ten rounds with someone.
Frankie had never seen him so pissed. He stood, but held the glare his lieutenant offered. “Don’t worry. I’ll get this solved.”
“That’s what I’m talking about. You hear yourself? I’ll get it solved. Not we’ll get it solved.”
“Sorry. We’ll get these damn cases solved.”
“You’d better. Now get the fuck out of here. You spoiled my breakfast.”
Frankie headed toward the door, but then stopped. How did the killer get Morreau’s DNA?
“Lieu, you ever eat at any of the diners or donut shops close to where the victims lived or worked?”
He stared at Frankie as if he were nuts. “How the hell do I know?”
“Hang on a minute. I’ll be right back.”
He returned shortly with three folders. Frankie and Morreau looked up each address for work and home. When they got to Nino Tortella’s work address, Morreau stopped. “There is a diner right by there,” he said. “I eat breakfast there maybe once or twice a month.”
Frankie left with a smile on his face. “I’m back on it, Lieu,” he said, but then corrected himself. “We, Lieu, we’re back on it.”