Brooklyn's Song (8 page)

Chapter 26

The crime lab ran the fingerprints found on the gun that was recovered from the duffle bag. As expected, Private Jones’s prints were found on the gun. What was unexpected was a second set of fingerprints belonging to Dino Franchetti. Franchetti owned a chain of upscale florist shops and had even run for mayor. Thirty years ago he was arrested for solicitation and a minor drug offense which is why his prints were in the system.

Song and Mattice were waiting to interview Dino in the lobby of his corporate office, Franchetti Florists LTD. The elevator dinged and the doors opened. A woman dressed in a skintight white spandex dress and five inch black stilettos walked towards Song and Mattice.

“Holy moly!” Mattice whispered.

She sat down on a chair across from them, crossed her legs and said, “Good morning, detectives, I’m Mr. Franchetti’s personal assistant Mrs. Cara; how may I help you?”

“Good morning, Mrs. Cara, we were hoping to speak with Mr. Franchetti,” Mattice said.

She let out a dry laugh. “I’m afraid, that’s not possible; Mr. Franchetti is a rather busy man. If you like, I’m sure his secretary can set you up with an appointment.”

“This is a very urgent police matter; we really need to speak with him,” Mattice insisted.

“Detective, I already told you that’s not going to happen.”

“Listen, Mrs. Cara, Mr. Franchetti can either talk to us now or at the station,” Song said.

She stared at Song for a second as if she was trying to figure out the best way to respond. Then she got up and turned her back to Mattice and Song as she pulled out her phone. They couldn’t make out what she was saying, but when Song saw her shoulders slump, he knew that he and Mattice had won the battle.

“Please follow me,” she said, curtly.

The three of them were taking the elevator up to the tenth floor. Mrs. Cara kept her eyes fixed on the status numbers at the top of the elevator.”

“So, Mrs. Cara, how long have you been working for Mr. Franchetti’?” Mattice asked.

She let out a loud sigh. “Is this part of your investigation?”

“No, I’m just curious,” Mattice replied.

“‘I’ve been with the company a little over two years.”

The elevator came to a halt. Mrs. Cara exited. Song and Mattice were right behind her. She stopped in front of a walnut double paneled door, pulled it open and gestured for them to go inside. Mr. Franchetti, a medium build man with ink black hair was dressed in a white polo shirt and Khakis. He held a putter in his hand and was in the process of swinging at a golf ball when Mattice and Song entered the office.

“Detectives, please have a seat,” he said, as he watched the ball rolling down the green mat. It stopped right outside the circle.

“Shit!” he shouted.

Mrs. Cara, looking a tad embarrassed, eased out of the room and closed the door.

Mr. Franchetti placed the putter in a golf bag, poured himself a drink and sat down at his desk.

“Would you like a drink?”

“No we’re good. We realize you’re a busy man,” Mattice said, sarcastically as he made a point to look over at the golfing mat, “But we have a few questions to ask you.”

“You got me,” Franchetti said, with a forced laugh, “I have a passion for golf and try to get a game in every day. It’s a relaxing sport. Do either of you play?”

“Does mini golf count?” Song asked.

Franchetti let out a smug chuckle. “So what brings you here?”

“Do you own a 9 millimeter?” Mattice asked.

Mr. Franchetti shifted in his chair, sipped from his glass and said, “I have a very extensive collection of guns. Why?”

“A 9 millimeter was found in a dumpster along with other items that belonged to the man who attempted to assassinate the governor and his fiancée,” Mattice said.

“So, what does this have to do with me?”

‘”Your prints were on the gun,” Mattice replied.

Mr. Franchetti’s face went white as a ghost.

“That’s not … Not possible,” He nervously said.

“Mr. Franchetti, we ran the prints more than once and we have an exact match. We already know that you were out of the country at the time of the shooting; does anyone else have access to your weapons?”

He was in deep thought and silently shook his head and said, “No, a few months back my summer home was burglarized I filed a police report. The gun along with some jewelry and computer equipment was stolen. I had no idea it was used …” His voice trailed off.

“We understand. Can you think of any reason why someone would try to link you to this crime?” Song asked.

“No, as a business man I have all kinds of enemies. I’ve been very critical of the governor’s agenda. I may not like the way he’s doing things, but believe me when I tell you, I would never try to hurt him or anyone else. My bank account is my biggest weapon and I have run thousands of dollars in ads in support of the governor’s opponent.”

“When was the last time you were in your summer home?” Mattice asked.

“We held a fundraiser there about a month before the burglary. A little over 200 people attended.”

“Can you get us a list of everyone who attended?” Song asked.

He sat back in his chair. “Detective, some of these folks are private donors and really wouldn’t appreciate their names being associated with either political party let alone an attempted murder investigation.”

“We will keep it on the down low,” Mattice said.

Mr. Franchetti reached and held his hand out. “Do I have your word?”

Mattice shook his hand. “You have my word.”

Before Mattice and Song left the office, the secretary gave them a printout of all the attendees at the fundraiser.

Chapter 27

“What did you think?” Mattice said, as he pulled the Taurus out into traffic.

Song stared out the window and didn’t respond.

“Earth to Song…Dude, what the hell is going on with you?”

“What?” Song said, sounding confused.

Mattice smiled. “Please tell me you did not go back to the wicked witch of the east.”

“Wicked witch?”

“Yeah, back with Hunter.”

“No, of course not!”

Mattice laughed and slapped Song on the shoulder. “Brooklyn…Were you with Brooklyn last night?”

“Keep your hands on the wheel! She invited me to her friend’s birthday party and I walked her home afterwards.”

Song thought about Brooklyn’s gorgeous face illuminated by the street light and wiping away her tears. After he left Brooklyn’s loft that night,
he arrived home, his grandmother was asleep in her recliner and his neighbor Bernice had fallen asleep on the sofa. Song nudged her shoulder and softly whispered, “Bernice.”

Bernice yawned and stretched her arms out. “Hi Song; oh my goodness I dozed off. Grandmother and I had a goodnight; we watched “Wheel of Fortune” and a dozen episodes of “Murder She Wrote.”

“Thanks so much for staying a little later.”

“Not a problem at all; we had a lot of fun.” She stood and put her sweater on. “Grandmother’s cookies are the best I’ve ever had.”

Song smiled. “Yes, her cookies are very delicious. I’ll walk you across the street.”

“Don’t be silly, I’ll flash my lights once I get inside.”

After Bernice left, Song peeked out the window until he saw her porch lights go on and off. He turned and his grandmother‘s eyes were wide open and she had a smile on her face.

“I’m glad Bernice enjoyed my cookies. How was your date?”

He sat down on the sofa, picked a cookie off the plate, smiled and said, “It was really nice.”

“Brooklyn is quite a lovely girl.”

Song looked surprised. “Grandmother, when did you see Brooklyn?”

She grinned. “I told Bernice you were going out with the governor’s daughter and she searched the World Wide Web and found a photograph of Brooklyn.”

”Grandmother you went on the ‘World Wide Web?’

“Yes, I did, and Bernice taught me how to work the mice.”

Song laughed. That’s mouse Grandmother, not mice.”

Song’s memory quickly faded as Mattice began to talk.

“If you need any advice don’t hesitate to ask,” Mattice said.

Song smirked. “I will certainly ask you for advice if and when I need it. Now let’s get back to the case. For whatever reasons, someone wanted to lead us to Franchetti otherwise the prints would have been wiped clean when the gun was tossed. I believe that Franchetti is telling the truth about not being involved.”

“Why don’t we grab some lunch and look more closely at the list Franchetti provided,” Mattice suggested.

Chapter 28

After dismissing her class for the day and packing up materials to take home, Brooklyn was headed out the door when Lonette caught up with her.

“Brook, wait up,” she called, “I’ll walk you to the car.”

“Lonette, I haven’t seen you all day; what’s up?”

“I’m still recovering from my party. We had so much food leftover even after everyone took a plate home. The wine glasses you gave me were awesome! Konstantinos helped me break them in,” she said, with a sly smile.

Brooklyn held her hand up. “Stop, I don’t even want to know.”

“Brook, Song is not only sexy as hell, but he’s also a romantic too. How did your night end?”

“We talked and then I fell asleep.”

Lonette gave Brooklyn a skeptical look. “Come on Brook, I’m not buying it.”

“‘I’m totally serious, nothing happened!” Brooklyn quickly got in the car before Lonette could press her for more details. She leaned out the window and winked at Lonette. “Don’t drink too much … Wine tonight,” she said.

Lonette laughed. “I’ll give you a call later.”

******

Brooklyn stopped at the gym for a swim and to run a couple of miles on the treadmill before going home. While on her way up in the elevator, her cell phone rang. She checked the caller ID and was surprised to see it was Song,

“Song, it’s nice to hear from you …But I’m wondering how you got my number.”

“I have my ways. How are you?”

Once inside her apartment, Brooklyn tossed her gym bag on the floor, kicked her sneakers off and sat on the sofa.

“I’m good, thank you for escorting me to the party. I was wondering if you’re not busy tonight, perhaps you could join me for dinner?”

“Sure, I’d like that. I have a few things to wrap up and should be at your place …In about an hour?”

“Great, I’ll see you then.”

Chapter 29

Song and Mattice were standing in Lieutenant Phillip’s office giving her an update on their investigation.

“It looks like the lab didn’t find any fingerprints on the baseball cap found in the hotel, but they did find a few stands of red hair from a Caucasian male,” Song said.

Lieutenant Phillip’s took a bite of her sandwich and then said, “Did ballistics match the bullets removed from Miss Carmen to the gun found in the dumpster?”

Song read over the report. “Yes, we have a match.”

“We’ve handed over the list, of the fundraiser attendees thrown by Mr. Franchetti, to the task force. They’re going to cross reference those names along with the names from the governor’s fundraiser the other night,” Mattice said.

Lieutenant Phillip’s wiped her mouth. “I don’t want anyone to know about the red strands of hair found in the cap. Let’s not spook this guy and make him shave or dye his hair. You’re certain that Franchetti had no involvement in this?”

“So far we haven’t found anything that links him to the shooting, but we haven’t completely ruled him out,” Song said.

She looked at her watch. “Why don’t you two call it a day and meet with the task force tomorrow.”

“Thanks Lieu,” they both said.

Mattice and Song walked out to the parking lot together. Earlier Mattice had purposely listened to Song’s conversation with Brooklyn.

“Dude, have fun tonight and do everything I would do,” Mattice said, with a throaty laugh.

Song chuckled. “Mattice , I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The forecast called for severe thunderstorms and heavy rain. There was also a flash flood warning which usually meant that Brooklyn would lose her electricity. She looked out the window at the darkened sky and onto the street. Song’s car pulled up next to the curb. He quickly got out just as a torrential down pour began. He grabbed a white box off the passenger seat and then hurried inside.

Ernie the doorman announced over the intercom that Song had arrived. Brooklyn told him to “Send him up.”

She ran and checked herself in the mirror; she was comfortably dressed in a pair of black yoga pants and a pink tank top. After arriving home from the gym, Brooklyn took a shower and didn’t bother reapplying her makeup; just a little lip-gloss and eyeliner. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail.

The door bell rang and she decided to wait a few seconds before opening the door. She didn’t want Song to think she was just sitting and waiting for him which in fact is exactly what she was doing.

“Hurry, come in, you’re soaked. I lost the lights, so don’t mind the candles.”

Song enjoyed seeing the lit candles throughout the apartment.

“It’s nice,” Song said.

“Let me take your jacket.”

Song set the box he was carrying down on the floor, shook the water off his hands and gave Brooklyn his jacket.

“Here you go,” Brooklyn said, giving Song a towel.

“Thanks, it’s pretty nasty out.”

He patted his hair and his face dry with the towel. His white dress shirt was soaking wet and clinging to him. Brooklyn admired his finely defined pecs and broad muscular shoulders. Droplets of water dripped down his brow and over his lips. She watched and suddenly felt thirsty.

“Take your shirt off” she said, more forcefully than intended. She swallowed hard. “I mean, I can hang your shirt on the shower rod to dry since the power is out and I can’t use the dryer.”

She tried to look away as he pulled the hem of his shirt out of his pants and began to unbutton it, but her eyes had a mind of their own and seeing his golden skin glistening in the candle light was more than she could handle. She wanted to ask him if his pants were wet too, but decided against it. She took the shirt, walked to the bathroom and draped it over the curtain rod.

“Song,” she called, from the bedroom, “I have a t-shirt if you want it; it’s extra large and should fit you.”