Campanelli: Sentinel (2 page)

              “No extended family?!”

              “None. Linda stated everyone else on both sides of the family is either elderly, departed for Alethea or dead.”

              “Great,” Campanelli growled.

              “Her parents’ actions sent her there, Frank.”

              “Goddamn it, that doesn’t make it any better, Marcus,” Campanelli blurted.

              “It should.”

              Frank was quiet for a moment. He connected to the CPD server and saw that he had accumulated more than a dozen messages. He didn’t feel like reading any of them, but the one from Dmitri Vanek, Chief of Detectives for District One, was urgent. He and Williams were to head to his office as soon as possible. The message was two and a half hours old.

              “Where’s Jimmy Antony now?” Frank asked of Williams.

              “Out on bond.”

              “What?! Already?!”

              “Yep. They were only able to charge him with reckless driving and human trafficking.”

              “He shot at me!” Campanelli shouted indignantly and slapped the arms of his recliner.

              “Just submit your recordings to the DA and that should do to revoke bail.”

              Frank let out a string of profanity and popped up from his chair. Stalking to his bedroom, he quickly picked out the day’s suit. “How the hell did he arrange bail so quick?!” he shouted over his shoulder.

              “He’s connected to Phil Ignatola, Frank,” Marcus replied, knowing his partner hated that gangster more than any other in the city. He was right; another barrage of rather creative profanity erupted from the bedroom.

              “So, we’ve finally drawn a line directly to the Ignatola family,” Campanelli stated as he took his clothes and a towel to the bathroom.

              “Nothing that’ll stick,” Marcus explained, “I drew that conclusion from the lawyer that showed up this mornin’.”

              “Uh, that would be that dillhole, Taylor.”

              “Actually, it’s Del Taylor, and no, it was a junior partner, Beritoni.”

              “Same difference,” Frank called from the bathroom. “Give me a few,” he called over the running water. The fifty-two year old showered quickly but thoroughly and, having dressed in record time, met Marcus at the already opened front door.

              “I let Vanek know we were on our way to see him. He’s waiting in his office,” Williams said as he stepped behind his older partner.

              The cruiser Williams had checked out from the motor pool was the same make and model as Campanelli’s, only twelve years older and far more run down. It rattled and squeaked as it rolled out of the parking lot and onto Eighteenth Street, but otherwise it was in good working order.

              The drive was extremely short as the District One Station was across the street. Frank realized that he had forgotten to eat anything and hoped that the meeting would be short. He pulled a cigarette from the pack in his jacket pocket and lit it with his chromed NYPD lighter, a souvenir from another lifetime. Campanelli commanded the window to drop a few inches. The air and the smell of tobacco invigorated him, but only momentarily. Underneath his professional façade, he was exhausted and he knew that it showed.

              The car turned left onto State Street and pulled a “U” turn in front of the District One building and parked. The two detectives got out and headed inside. Once on the second floor, they took a right turn out of the bank of elevators and knocked on their Chief’s office door. Frank opened it when he heard Vanek’s voice and stepped in.

              “Frank, Marcus,” Dmitri Vanek greeted. They returned the sentiment with low spoken ‘good mornings’. The Chief did not need to invite them to sit, for they knew from many such meetings that it was simply expected. “Frank, you look awful.”

              “Oh? I’m not fooling anyone, huh?” he replied lightly from his slouched position. He went through the motion of straightening up, but the change of posture did nothing for him.

              Vanek smirked. “I want you to know that from the two
CAPS-Link
recordings I’ve received from two other officers, Marcus’s being one of them, that last night’s shooting incident appears unavoidable. I’ll have to ask you to forward yours, Frank.”

              Frank brought the listing of his implant’s files into view and found the recording. Retitling it, he saved the file and linked his implant with Vanek’s. Once done, he transmitted the copy to the man sitting on the other side of the desk.

              “Thank you,” Vanek said and nodded. “This is just a formality, Frank. Like I said, you’re in the clear.”

              Campanelli did not so much as nod. He simply held Dmitri Vanek’s gaze as he rubbed his stubbly chin.

              “I take it you’re
feeling guilty?” Dmitri ventured. Receiving a blink in response, he forged on. “I can’t tell you how to feel. Just know that I understand it. No cop I ever met goes out there intending to put a bullet into an innocent man, but remember Campanelli, Sam Whethers was not an innocent person. He was unarmed, yes, but a criminal nonetheless.”

              “What about Antony?” Campanelli inquired with a croak in his voice.

              “Once I get these implant recordings of Jimmy Antony’s intent to kill to the DA, we’ll just get the bail revoked and take him back into custody.”

              Frank nodded as the Chief of Detectives passed his eyes over the two men. There was much fatigue in the face of Campanelli while it appeared that Williams, a much younger man and genetically improved by the military, was unaffected by the long hours.

              “Chief,” Frank spoke up with a little more fire in his manner, “where is Sarah Whethers this morning?”

              “Oh,” replied Vanek as his pupils danced over the text his implant projected onto his lenses, “the daughter. Well, if you two wish to pay a visit or whatever, she was processed into juvenile hall this morning. She’ll be processed into the foster care program. But, I urge you both to not get involved,” the Chief sat back into his big chair and it creaked loudly over his sigh. “What is not commonly known is that the detention center is being hit with various forms of influenza. They’ve had a lot of deaths over the past few months.”

              Frank and Marcus looked to each other in alarm. Both detectives were very aware of the rising number of cases of influenza in the general public and the low availability of Perpetuamivir, the world’s most successful and complete influenza vaccine. They also understood that the last people in line for the inoculations would be prisoners. What they failed to realize, as it simply had not come up before, was the low priority of juveniles in the city’s care.

              “We’ve got to get her out of there!” Frank exuded with suddenness as he sat forward.

              “Frank,” Vanek insisted, “she’s not your problem.”

              “Then how come I feel it is?”

              “It’s a natural reaction, believe me, I understand, Campanelli.”

              “Please, Chief,” Frank pressed with an effort to suppress further emotional outbursts, “we have to put her in a home, quickly. She’s only seven years old.”

              Vanek sighed again and sat forward. The chair sounded relieved. “It isn’t like she’s being sent to Statesville,” he said lowly. The name had great impact. One of two maximum security prisons left in the state, Statesville had a mortality rate so high that to send a convict there was, in effect, a death sentence. Vanek was aware that his mention of the facility had quieted his Captain of Detectives, but not appeased him. Dmitri smiled and acquiesced. “I’ll make a few calls and see if I can’t speed things up for her.”

              “Thank you, sir,” Campanelli breathed.

              “On one condition.”

              “Name it.”

              “Take the rest of the day off. As a matter of fact, take tomorrow, too.”

              Frank sighed and sat back. The many cases that he had his eight homicide detectives assigned to were well under way. There had not been any request of him for several days, but Officer Albert Kelly’s murder was now a priority. The report on his shooting revealed that none of the guns found on the traffickers matched the one that had killed him. “Let me check on my people, make sure there’s nothing they need. We have to find out which one of Ignatola’s goons killed Kelly.”

              “No, Frank,” Vanek replied. “Let Williams do that.”

              “Hey, where’s my day off?” Williams protested jestingly.

              Dmitri smirked. “Check up on Frank’s people, do what you can to get the Kelly investigation going, then report to him…at his home, at a bar, at the beach…whatever. Then take tomorrow.”

              “Okay, Chief,” Marcus agreed, “thanks.”

              To Frank, he said: “I’ll let you know what I find out about the Whethers girl by this evening.”

              “Thank you, sir,” Campanelli answered sincerely.

              “Now, get outta here,” Vanek ordered, shooing his two underlings out of his office.

***

              It was not until the two of them were back in the rickety cruiser that Campanelli admitted his desperate need of nourishment and invited Marcus to breakfast. The car took them to “
Tam’s Place
” the diner on the corner of Eighteenth and Michigan. Frank had dined there religiously for almost two years, well before he had ever thought about dating Tamara, the owner. He had introduced Williams to the place a year prior and the ex-Navy Seal had finally gotten used to the fact that the place did not specialize in health food, though there were a few salads to choose from. As it was breakfast time, Marcus actually looked forward to his usual eggs and bacon, so much so that he beat Campanelli to the door, which he held for Frank.

              “Hi Frank! Hi Marcus!” Tam called from behind the counter.

              Both men returned the greeting and sat across from her. Frank loved the way Tam’s smile lit the place up; it had a habit of making him smile in response without even thinking about it. Her dancing blue eyes met with his full-service artificial lenses and right away, she could see the fatigue in Campanelli’s face. Tam’s smile faltered slightly as she picked up two plates from the chef’s shelf and she walked them to the two patrons seated at the window. Besides those two, another couple sat in the far corner.

              “It’s a bit early to be this empty,” Frank murmured to himself as he checked the time display.

              “Yes,” Williams said discretely once he looked around, “I wonder if that has to do with the latest outbreak of flu.”

              Tam returned and the two of them placed their orders. After submitting the choices to the kitchen, she asked in her best southern belle accent, “What in the world happened last night, Frank?”

              “Just a late night, Tam,” Frank smiled.

              Tam looked to Marcus expectantly for his story.

              “A late one
and
a rough one,” Williams added.

              “Well, you look like hell, dear,” she proclaimed and placed her hands on the counter.

              “We lost an officer last night,” Campanelli explained as his eyes searched her face. Immediately, her expression changed from one of bemusement to genuine concern.

              “Oh, guys, I’m so sorry,” she said emphatically and turned around to retrieve the coffee pot. Pouring them both a cup full, she focused her attention on Frank. “Were you there when it happened?”

              “No. We showed up right after. Chased ‘em all the way out to DuPage before we got ‘em.”

              “Oh,” she uttered, making it sound a bit like a sob. “Are you hurt?”

              “No,” Frank said, taking her hand. “I’m just really tired.”

              “I swear, you two scare me to death,” Tam nearly exclaimed, “I don’t see you when you have to work late and I’m always expecting that midnight phone call.”

              “Tam,” Campanelli began as he squeezed her hand, “it goes with the job. Look, let’s just talk about somethin’ else. Okay?”

              She nodded vigorously and briefly, shaking the blonde tendrils of loose hair around her face and the knot of it atop her head. Tam smiled, but it lacked conviction. Frank was happy to see it nonetheless.

              “I have the rest of the day off,” he announced and took a sip of coffee. “Tomorrow, too.”

              “Really?” she brightened genuinely.

              “What say we go to the movies?”

              “Sure! Tonight?”

              “Maybe tonight. I’ll see what’s playin’.”

              Though Tamara Billingsley was well into her forties, she could pass for a teenager when she was happy. Giddily smiling and showing her impeccably white teeth, she clapped her hands and hopped in place. Marcus, who had come to know her well over the last twelve months, imagined that she had been no different when she was seventeen. Looking to Frank, he could see from the way he was enjoying her reaction that his partner loved her. Campanelli rarely smiled, but when he did, Tam was usually the reason.