Every Second

23

Elmhurst, New York

With sirens wailing and lights flashing, NYPD units from the 115th Precinct blocked the north, south and east entrances to Bazerinni Trucking on Astoria Boulevard.

The depot stood at the edge of a commercial strip lined with tired-looking one-and two-story buildings just beyond. The company was not far from La Guardia Airport and other busy freight and cargo operations. But today, Bazerinni’s business had ground to a halt as heavily armed officers, a K-9 unit and a group of detectives descended on the yard.

“What the hell’s this?” A man rushed out from the garage, angry and perplexed, searching amid the loading bays and grind of diesel engines for someone to provide an answer. His shirtsleeves were rolled up, his tie was loosened. He gripped a tablet in one hand.

“We’re looking for Luca Bazerinni,” said one of the suited men.

“I’m Luca. Mind telling me who you are and what you’re doing on my property?”

“I’m Detective Tilden, NYPD, and this is Agent Varner, FBI. We’re investigating the robbery of a SkyNational Trust branch in Roseoak Park.”

“What about it?”

“You’re aware of it?”

“Yeah, heard it on the news.”

“You have business dealings with the branch.”

“A loan, sure. So what? I didn’t rob the freakin’ place.” The yelp of the German shepherd diverted Bazerinni, who took quick inventory of the armed officers and detectives searching his property. “What the hell’s this? Do you have a warrant?”

“We do, Mr. Bazerinni,” Varner said. “It authorizes us to search the premises and all records relevant to our investigation.”

The stress lines on Bazerinni’s face deepened and he pulled his cell phone from his pocket. “I want my lawyer here.” He scrolled through his contact numbers.

“That’s your right,” Tilden said, “but you’re not under arrest and things would go quicker for us to clear you if you’d cooperate by answering a few questions.”

“Clear me? Clear me from what?”

“Let’s talk over there.” Varner nodded to a rest area with lockers and wooden tables and chairs.

Bazerinni hesitated, taking another look around before returning his phone to his pocket and leading the two men to the tables.

Tilden and Varner took out notebooks.

“You acknowledge your company took out a loan for the amount of eight hundred thousand dollars with Branch 487 for SkyNational Trust Banking Corp.?”

“That’s what this is about?”

“Just answer the question,” Tilden said.

“If you know the amount, then you know it’s true.”

“But you took issue with the terms of that loan and some five or six months ago went to the branch to discuss it.”

“I sure as hell did. Back then we were facing a helluva time. We were getting squeezed on all fronts, contracts were low. We weren’t getting paid on time and we had issues with insurance, suppliers and subcontractors.”

“So you went to the bank to seek relief on the terms of the loan?”

“Exactly. We were told when we negotiated the loan that it was geared to income and that we had the option to relax the payments, should we face hard times. The rates and terms were good. That’s why we went out to Roseoak. They gave us a good deal.”

“Tell us what happened when you visited the branch to discuss those terms.”

“I’ll tell you exactly what happened. The loan officer there started singing a different tune, said we couldn’t modify the original terms. He said I’d misunderstood what he’d told me before, that it was all clear in the fine print. I was pissed off and I left.”

“You were pissed off?”

“You’re damned right. That prick, Green, lied to me.”

“Did you tell him, and I quote, ‘Do you know who you’re talking to? You mothers better watch your back ’cause one day you’re gonna regret this!’”

Bazerinni shrugged. “Sounds right.”

“You understand that’s considered a threat, Mr. Bazerinni.”

“Give me a freakin’ break. This is Queens! I run a trucking operation, and the asshole in the suit lied to me. I wanted to beat him to a pulp. I was losing sleep, going crazy with worry over my company. What do you think I’m gonna say to that prick-thanks and have a nice day?”

“In light of what’s happened at the bank today, you understand why we’re forced to see your comment in a different light,” Varner said.

“A different light?”

“Luca-” Tilden looked him in the eye “-are you involved in any way with the robbery of Branch 487 for SkyNational Trust Banking Corp., and the disappearance of Dan Fulton, Lori Fulton and their son, Billy?”

“Are you crazy? No, no way!”

The investigators let his response hang in the air amid the idling diesels and ongoing search of his property.

Bazerinni sat forward, pointing his finger at Tilden.

“Let me tell you something. Me and my dad started this company with a beat-up Ford F-150 pickup twenty years ago. Now we got a fleet of twenty units and fifty people on the payroll. We cooperate with every vehicle inspection, every driver inspection, every license and bond review, every audit. We pay our bills and our taxes. On time! I had to sell some equipment to deal with our rough patch six months ago but we never missed a payment. We’re back on solid ground now. We’re strong and we’re clean. There’s no reason for us to be involved in this robbery-and there never would be.”

“Luca!” A woman held up her hands as she shouted down from the railing outside the office on the second level.

Bazerinni saw detectives carrying out computers. He turned to Varner and Tilden. “What the hell’re you doing?”

“Unfortunately, we’re going to have to shut you down for a while before we can clear you,” Tilden said. “We’ve got to review all your records, including your computers, phones and employee files.”

Bazerinni dragged both hands over his face.

“All because I shot off my mouth to that lying prick at the bank.”

Varner nudged Tilden, then nodded toward a few rolls of duct tape stacked on a nearby bench, along with a few other packing supplies. Varner knew the techs would need to collect a sample for comparison with the tape used at the Fulton home.