Masked Innocence

Twenty-Six

The detective entered the East Wing, heading for De Luca’s main secretary. He flashed his badge to the elegant, mature woman behind the middle desk. “I need to speak to Mr. De Luca.”

The woman didn’t blink but fixed the detective with a pointed glance. “Your name?”

“Detective Wilkes. Homicide.”

She nodded pleasantly but didn’t make a move to her phone. “I don’t believe that Mr. De Luca is in, Detective Wilkes, but if you take a seat I will try and contact him.”

“You do that.”

Her brows raised, she looked pointedly at the nearest seating cluster. He shook his head and sauntered over to the seat, collapsing into it with a loud sigh.

She picked up her phone and dialed an extension.

“Brad De Luca.”

“Detective Wilkes just came in, unannounced. He is asking to speak to you.”

“Fine. Send him in, then interrupt us after ten minutes.”

“Yes, sir.”

I RAN, QUICKER than my normal speed, but I needed justification for my pounding heart. Broward assisted in the Genovese family turnover. Broward was working for the Magiano family. His words, strained and hateful, not the man I knew. “Some of the biggest names in town are coming to me for services...Genovese turnover was handled perfectly...I haven’t heard any complaints from the Magianos...” No wonder he was dead. I jumped curbs, climbed up and pounded down Stadium Hill, my breath coming fast, a cramp in my side, my legs screaming in protest, until I finally wound down, coming to a sudden, gut-wrenching stop. I bent over, feeling slightly nauseated.

What was I doing? Why was I digging into this crap, trying to find proof of the Magianos’ involvement in Broward’s death? Why was I power-calling Detective Parks to make sure that he explored that angle? Broward, my mentor, a man I had respected, had apparently run a full-page ad in the mobster Yellow Pages. He had wanted the business, bragged about it. And then he was killed. I needed to get the fuck out of this situation and start minding my own business. I had to stop thinking of Broward as an innocent bystander and recognize his part in his own demise. I needed to stop thinking about the entire situation.

“DETECTIVE.” BRAD SHOOK Detective Wilkes’s hand and sat on the edge of his desk, arms crossed. “I have a meeting shortly. I will only be able to give you a few minutes. Any luck finding Kent’s killer?”

“We’re working on that.” The man looked at Brad appraisingly. “Diligently.”

“Last time we spoke, I believe I informed you that I would not answer questions without my attorney present.”

“Humor me.”

Brad said nothing, just met the detective’s eyes.

“We have discovered large amounts of funds deposited into Mr. Broward’s bank account over the last three years.”

“CDB does very well, I would expect Kent to have a healthy bank account.” Brad crossed his arms and looked down at his watch.

“Not from the firm. From other accounts, foreign, untraceable accounts. Do you know where those income streams would have originated, or why?”

“Are you asking Clarke these questions?”

“No.”

Brad spread his arms, exasperated. “Then why me? Why assume I know anything about Kent and his money, his clients? I don’t have anything to do with Kent or his business. And as you so clearly pointed out, he despised me!”

“Clarke doesn’t have ties to organized crimes.” Wilkes’s eyes glittered triumphantly, as if he had found the cure to cancer.

Brad turned, walking behind his desk. “My family has nothing to do with me, or my business. Don’t drag unrelated items into this discussion. If you want to investigate my family, go right ahead. You will have my full cooperation. For now, get out—unless you have something to arrest me for.”

There was a knock on the door, and then Carol Featherston appeared. “Mr. De Luca, we need to leave for court.”

Brad nodded and turned to the detective. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Wilkes. Carol will see you out.” Without waiting for a response, he turned and walked out, shoulders relaxed, but his hands in fists in his pockets.