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Chapters (49)
  1. From Wikipedia
  2. Other Books by This Author
  3. Title Page
  4. Dedication
  5. Epigraph
  6. Contents
  7. Chapter One
  8. Chapter Two
  9. Chapter Three
  10. Chapter Four
  11. Chapter Five
  12. Chapter Six
  13. Chapter Seven
  14. Chapter Eight
  15. Chapter Nine
  16. Chapter Ten
  17. Chapter Eleven
  18. Chapter Twelve
  19. Chapter Thirteen
  20. Chapter Fourteen
  21. Chapter Fifteen
  22. Chapter Sixteen
  23. Chapter Seventeen
  24. Chapter Eighteen
  25. Chapter Nineteen
  26. Chapter Twenty
  27. Chapter Twenty-one
  28. Chapter Twenty-two
  29. Chapter Twenty-three
  30. Chapter Twenty-four
  31. Chapter Twenty-five
  32. Chapter Twenty-six
  33. Chapter Twenty-seven
  34. Chapter Twenty-eight
  35. Chapter Twenty-nine
  36. Chapter Thirty
  37. Chapter Thirty-one
  38. Chapter Thirty-two
  39. Chapter Thirty-three
  40. Chapter Thirty-four
  41. Chapter Thirty-five
  42. Chapter Thirty-six
  43. Chapter Thirty-seven
  44. Chapter Thirty-eight
  45. Chapter Thirty-nine
  46. Chapter Forty
  47. Chapter Forty-one
  48. About the Author
  49. Cover

Sal laughed, and it came out like a series of sharp hacks. “Hey, you just fall off the lamebrain truck, or what? I run this building thirty-five years. Those fucking Gamboza bastards grew up right over there on Wilmont Street and so did Richie Sealy. They useta throw rocks at the niggers and steal their money, the little bastards, Richie Sealy and Nick and Tommy Gamboza and that nut case Vincent Ricci. Jesus Christ, the DeLucas.” More of the hacking laugh. “Richie’s about as close to being a Gamboza as you can be without the blood. Why else you think I gotta put up with a junkie eight months back on his rent? I heave him out, those bastards would cut out my heart and fry it in a pan.”

I said, “But how does he fit in with the DeLucas?”

Sal squinted at me past the security chains like I was a new release from Bellevue. “He don’t. Nobody around here got anything to do with the fucking DeLucas. The Upper West Side is owned lock, stock, and short hairs by the Gamboza family. DeLucas got lower Manhattan. This look like lower Manhattan to you?”

I was seeing it. “Sonofabitch.”

Sal Cohen said, “No wonder this city’s down the toilet, fucking cops like you.” Then he slammed the door.

Joe Pike and I walked down the flight of stairs and out onto the street and looked around at deepest, darkest Gamboza country. Nary a DeLuca in sight.

“Well, well, well,” I said. “Now I’m beginning to see why Charlie’s keeping this secret.”

Pike nodded.

“The Delucas and the Gambozas hate each other, but they have an agreement. They’re supposed to be standing together against the foreign gangs.”

Pike’s mouth twitched. “Doesn’t look that way, does it?”

“Nope.”

Pike’s mouth twitched a second time. Hysterics, for Pike. “You think whatever these guys are stealing at Kennedy, it’s something that would make a lot of people mad?”

“I’ve got some guesses.”

Pike nodded again. “Let’s go down to Dillard’s and see if your guesses are right.”

Chapter Thirty-one

Thirty-one

You had to walk up a long wooden flight of stairs to get to Dillard’s. The stairs were dark and the finish was worn off the center of each tread. A sign at the bottom of the stairs said DILLARD’S POOL & BILLIARDS, LADIES WELCOME. Another sign said NO MINORS, UNDER 21 NOT ALLOWED.