 
**Prodigal Crimes**

by

J.W. Lucas

*****

Published by J.W. Lucas
Prodigal Crimes  
Copyright 2020 by J.W. Lucas

**Prodigal Crimes** is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead is purely coincidental or intended to provide local ambiance to the story setting.

**Other Books by J.W. Lucas: Daryl Richardson Crime Mysteries**

2017 The Secrets of Ethan Falls  
2018 Hands That Heal - Hands That Kill  
2019 Gabriel's Rage

**Author Contact:** jwlucasbooks1@gmail.com
**Table of Contents**

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28
**Chapter 1**

NYPD Detective Captain Daniel Dragona turned onto Center Street in the Brooklyn neighborhood to be greeted by the blinding glare of flashing emergency vehicle strobe lights as far as the eye could see. Police cars, ambulances, and fire trucks jammed the narrow street rendering it impassable. He squinted, looked up the street and saw despite being a few minutes past two AM on a cool September night, the crowd gathered in front of the Hudson Apartments presented more the appearance of a nightclub emptying at closing hour than a crime scene.

He flashed his badge and ID to the two uniformed officers who were manning a roadblock, the more senior of the duo nodded in acknowledgement of his rank and turned his head with a look of obvious frustration toward the building up the street.

"As you can see, it's a zoo out here, Captain. You'll have to park and walk in," he said as he moved an orange cone next to the granite stone curb and motioned for his partner officer to raise the yellow crime scene tape to allow his passage.

It had been less than two weeks since the Police Commissioner had appointed Dragona to head a new violent crimes investigation unit, this was their first case call-out.

After he parked, he stepped out of his car, looked to his left and recognized Detective Sgt. Manuel Diaz slowly walking toward him, a dazed look on his face. Sgt. Diaz was one of the five detectives assigned to Dragona's new unit; its member's hand-picked for their past investigative work on some of the Department's most horrific crimes.

"Manny, are you all right?" he asked, raising his voice to be heard above the raucous catcalls and taunts coming from the crowd up the street.

Sgt. Diaz looked at him but didn't speak. Dragona took him by the arms and shook him.

"Manny, what the hell's the matter with you? Have you been drinking?" he asked, leaning in to check if he could smell alcohol on the man's breath. There was no odor of liquor.

The Sergeant looked with a vacant gaze into Dragona's eyes as if he was searching for the words to answer.

_" The victim, ...the girl,"_ he stammered, _" He cut her face off,"_ the detective hoarsely answered as his knees buckled and Dragona quickly caught him to break his fall. The Sergeant jerked away from his grip and bent over, violently vomiting onto the curb. Dragona fought his own instant urge to gag, turning away to avoid the detective's retching. He laid his hand on the man's back, a sympathetic albeit non-therapeutic gesture as the man's distress purged itself.

After a minute Sgt. Diaz stood upright, coughing and spitting out the remnants of his affliction. "I'm sorry, Boss, I don't know what happened to me. I'm sorry." His complexion was pale, beads of sweat dripped off his forehead and trickled down his cheeks.

'It's all right Manny, come here," Dragona said as he guided the detective by the arm to the rear of his car. He opened the trunk and found a small canvas travel bag inside. He unzipped the bag and pulled out an unopened nip bottle of Jack Daniels. "Here, take a swig, it'll help to settle your stomach."

Sgt. Diaz took the mini bottle, turned and looked to see no one was watching, and with a trembling hand took a quick gulp of the whiskey, coughing after he swallowed.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and handed the bottle back to Dragona, who in turn handed him a small jar of mentholated petroleum jelly.

"Push some of that up your nose, it'll help," the Captain directed. Sgt. Diaz complied and inhaled deeply; he blinked rapidly as the menthol vapors flooded his brain causing his eyes to tear.

"Now, tell me again; what did you say about the victim?" Dragona asked.

Sgt. Diaz spoke rapidly, his thoughts disjointed; "It's a girl, early to mid-twenties I'd guess. She's naked, lying in the bathtub. It's a small apartment, there's blood everywhere. I had agreed to work an OT night shift I'd signed up for in my old unit before I was assigned to your team and was in my car a few blocks away when I got the call. I got here fast and found the two uniformed guys first on scene out in the hallway, coughing, trying not puke their guts out. I flashed my tin, they almost couldn't talk, but were able to tell me she was in the bathroom. I went inside and looked and saw she had a gaping wound in her chest, probably from a butcher knife or something big like that _. "_

_" Captain! Her face has been cut off!"_ he said in a hushed voice

"I've seen violent crime scenes but I've never seen mutilation like this. I went back out to the hall and used the officer's radio to call for help. One of the uniforms looked like a rookie, just a kid; I thought he was in shock, that's why I called for backup and EMS." He turned, looked up the street toward the crime scene, and pointed; "As you can see, they sent all this."

Dragona and the Sergeant slowly walked up the street toward the crime scene building. The crowd of onlookers had grown to several dozen, the catcalls and derogatory epithets were being hurled non-stop at the assembled emergency workers and cops. It seemed a small group was trying to incite the others to riot, they were close to succeeding. The sound of heavy footsteps running in cadence approached from behind them. Dragona turned and saw a squad of tactically garbed Emergency Services Unit officers fast approaching on foot.

He pulled out the badge hanging on a chain around his neck and held it high in the air for identification as the ESU team drew closer. It would be their job to contain and disperse the crowd threatening the crime scene.

"Just another crazy night in the neighborhood," Sgt. Diaz grumbled as he moved over to the left curb to let the group pass. As Dragona and Sgt. Diaz approached the Hudson Apartments building they noticed a firefighter, the back of his coat bore the stencil 'Chief, Battalion Commander.' Dragona approached the man and presented his ID. The Chief took a long look at the ID and then Dragona.

"Morning Chief. As soon as ESU contains the crowd, any chance we can open up the street so I can get the crime scene trucks in here?"

"You the one the papers call The Dragon?" Chief Wilson Gallagher asked pointedly, ignoring Dragona's question.

He was taken aback by the direct probe, but quickly recovered. "My mother called me Danny," he answered.

"Well, Danny, welcome to my world!" Chief Gallagher said as he looked at the commotion around them and wiped his hand against his fire coat before he reached out and shook hands. "I read about you and your new assignment. Congratulations, and thank you for your service."

For an instant Danny Dragona's mind flashed back two weeks in time when the local broadcast news and social media scribes reported for public scrutiny his new assignment and his prior military service.

A former Army Ranger, two combat tours in Afghanistan, a Silver Star, two purple hearts. The Dragon nickname was laid upon him not for the similarity in the spelling of his last name, but rather the act under fire that earned him the medal for bravery. Pinned down and trapped by the Taliban in an ambush, half his team dead or severely wounded, and despite his own shoulder wound, he picked up a flame thrower and charged a Taliban bunker burning to death the dozen terrorists who had almost decimated his unit. Danny Dragona was no stranger to atrocity.

The Fire Chief's voice snapped him back to the present moment.

"To answer your question, yeah; if ESU can move the crowd," he said, "I'll move the trucks. If not, I have a thousand gallons of ripe East River in the tanker to pressure wash the street. and sidewalks. That'll move these sons-of-bitches."

"In combat we used napalm," Dragona retorted as he turned and started to walk away.

"I'll keep that in mind for next year's budget!" the Chief called out. "Good luck with your case Danny the Dragon!"

It took the ESU officers ten minutes to clear the street and move the crowd onto the sidewalks behind wooden barriers and crime scene tape. There were scuffles with the agitators, a few arrests were made. The police response was swift and firm; the crowd realized they were losing the battle and in small groups drifted away from in front of the apartment building.

Dragona looked around and observed the neighborhood was old, but the front facades of the aging Brownstones had been meticulously restored to their former glory; they now housed small apartments and rooms to rent. The rear sides of the buildings were in stark contrast. They were covered with peeling faded paint, rusted and broken steel fire escapes served as emergency exits for the upper floors. He knew that most if not all the apartments were walk-ups. Tonight's crime scene was reportedly on the third floor of the Hudson Building.

The Mobile Crime Lab truck arrived followed by a van carrying four evidence technicians. As the techs got out, they were called over by an officer whose uniform identified him as a Captain. Prior to this moment Dragona hadn't seen any signs a Command Officer was in charge at the chaotic scene.

"That's Captain Epting," Sgt. Diaz said, pointing to the man, "He's the Precinct night shift Commander."

"What do you know about him?" Dragona asked.

"Not much," the Sergeant answered. "He's been around a long time, he's low profile. The word is he's just putting in his time, avoids the spotlight whenever he can, which is almost always. I'm actually surprised he showed up here tonight."

Before Dragona could respond, a possible explanation for Captain Epting's presence appeared with the arrival of Deputy Chief of the Department Malcom Prentiss. His achievement of high rank had nothing to do with his African American race, rather his six-foot five, two-hundred fifty pounds of chiseled physique, Master's degree in criminal justice, graduation from the FBI National Academy and thirty plus years working the streets of New York City on some of the most notorious cases validated him. He was a cop's cop.

Chief Prentiss walked directly over to Dragona and extended his hand in greeting.

"Danny, I don't have many details on this case, but from what's already leaked out in the last hour, this one is high profile. If it's true the perp sliced off the victim's face, this is a nightmare. What do you know so far?"

"Not much Chief. With all the ruckus out here on the street I haven't been able to get into the apartment." Dragona pointed to Sgt. Diaz, "This is Sgt. Manny Diaz, he's been assigned to my team from the 73rd Precinct. He was the first detective on the scene after the two uniforms found the girl; he called in for backup. Tell the Chief what you saw, Manny."

Chief Prentiss reached out and shook the Sergeant's hand.

"Chief, the girl was butchered, no other way to describe it. The fatal wound from my quick look seems to be a knife through the heart, and...and... yeah, her face has been cut off."

Chief Prentiss seemed unphased by the description of the horrific injuries. He turned to Dragona. "What's this ruckus you mentioned?" he asked. "I see a crowd, but that shouldn't stop your work."

Before he could answer, a dark colored older Chevy came screaming around the corner of the block, screeching to a stop when the driver realized the street was blocked by the fire trucks. The driver tried to maneuver the car to get away but his erratic driving had caused it to be trapped, unable to turn around. The car's occupants started screaming in Spanish at the cops and firefighters standing nearby.

"Gang bangers," Sgt. Diaz said. "I recognize the car from some precinct reports. They've been trying to move in and take over the Brownsville drug turf that the local gangs' control. They do this two or three times every night looking for their competitor dealers."

The Chief glanced across at Captain Epting who appeared paralyzed by indecision. The Chief waved to his driver, pointed twice at the Chevy, and turned to Dragona and the Sergeant.

"C'mon boys, we can't have this interfering with your work."

As the Chief quickly marched toward the offenders' car, Dragona looked over to see his driver step out of the unmarked patrol car. Dragona hesitated mid-step. To his amazement, he saw the uniformed officer he had heard about, but had never seen in person; Sgt. Earl "The Pearl" Moore, all six-feet seven, three-hundred plus pounds of him, his biceps stretching the sleeves of his short-sleeve uniform shirt that looked painted across his broad chest. His NYPD moniker respectfully memorialized his perfectly rounded, bald, shiny head.

_" Show me your hands! Show me your hands!"_ Chief Prentiss barked at the four youths inside the car as ESU and uniformed officers ran toward the confrontation.

" _Driver 's got a gun! Driver's got a gun!"_ screamed an officer as he and the others approaching abruptly stopped and instinctively drew their weapons.

Dragona watched as if the scene was playing out in slow motion. The unfortunate driver never saw the metal baton being wielded by Earl the Pearl smash through first the driver's, then the right rear passenger's windows. With incredible strength Earl grabbed the driver around the neck and yanked him from behind the wheel, pulling him through the remnants of the shattered window, slamming him to the pavement. Thankfully the man hadn't been wearing his seatbelt; had he, assuredly Earl would have snapped his neck. Officers quickly pinned down the driver and handcuffed him.

The front seat passenger surrendered, wildly waving his raised hands in the air. From the terrified look on his face he would have pushed his arms through the roof of the car if he could.

As he started to slowly exit the car, he was tackled by two officers and thrown to the pavement. His resistance to their efforts was futile, he was quickly handcuffed.

The right rear passenger threw open his door and bolted, running into an approaching office, knocking him to the ground with a roundhouse punch to his head.

As the youth continued his attempt to flee, Dragona saw a jean-covered leg suddenly deliver a devastating kick to guy's chest, his reactive scream was probably heard in the Bronx. As he writhed in pain on the ground, two officers cautiously stepped in front of the woman who had delivered the blow. Dragona looked at her and realized it was Detective Second-Grade Carmen Della-Rosa, whom he had recently selected to join the Violent Crimes Unit. As she stood over and grinned at her writhing suspect, she had satisfaction written all over her face. Perhaps that was one of the personality traits that had earned frequent-flyer status for her appearances before the Department's Internal Affairs Use of Force Review Board.

The suspect was saying something in Spanish in between moans. Carmen leaned over to hear what he was saying. As she stepped closer and bent over one of the officers holding the youth down, he suddenly pulled a long-bladed knife from his waistband and started to swing it toward her face. Her response was lightning fast. With her left foot she kicked the knife from his hand, it flew loose, almost striking the face of Sgt. Diaz who had joined the officers holding the man down. She leaped in the air and with a vicious kick of her right leg delivered a second blow to his crotch. This time his scream was probably heard in Staten Island. Carmen leaned over close to his face and shouted something in Spanish. The man suddenly became silent, near unconscious from the pain.

Chief Prentiss watched as the left rear passenger exited the car with his hands raised and was quickly handcuffed. The Chief turned and walked over to where Dragona was standing.

"Now that we got this little matter cleared up, your team can get to work," he calmly said.

A few minutes later Sgt. Diaz approached with a uniform officer, they were carrying two loaded nine-millimeter automatics, a revolver, and a sawed-off shotgun they had found in the car. "Good collar," the Chief complemented the men on their find.

As the officers turned to secure the seized weapons, the Chief called out; "Sgt. Diaz, a moment please." Diaz turned and walked over.

"Chief?" he asked in a puzzled voice.

"I'm curious; what did the woman detective say to the perp after he tried to slash her."

Sgt. Diaz hesitated at first.

"Chief, loosely translated, she said something to the effect that if he don't stop his screaming, she would run home and put on her spike heels and come back and really give him something to cry about."

"Oh!" the Chief said in acknowledgement, fighting to stifle a smile. "Thank you, Sergeant."

The Chief and Dragona started toward the apartment house lobby door and noticed Detective Della-Rosa walking ahead of them. The Chief reached over and tapped Dragona's arm, gesturing toward the woman.

"You and I spent a lot of time talking about who you were going to select to work with you," the Chief said. "I have no personal problem with Carmen, just some friendly advice for you; keep a short leash on her."

The Chief's comment struck at the core of what the new Violent Crimes Unit was all about. The Mayor was touting under his Administration he was addressing violent crime in the City. What he was glossing over were the increasing incidents of extreme violence the uniform cops were facing every day, events that the news media were hyping with banner headlines on their front pages. Despite the Department's complement of highly trained and skilled specialty enforcement units, deteriorating public respect for the police was becoming rampant, the cops' morale being bruised daily. The concept of a hand-picked small team of detectives who would work 'under the radar' of both City bureaucrats and the media and use whatever means necessary to solve major violent crimes was the Chief's brainchild.

He was putting his reputation on the line to make it work. The catch was not to let 'whatever means necessary' equate to a death squad. That was Dragona's challenge.
**Chapter 2**

As the Chief and Captain Dragona walked up the three concrete steps leading to the lobby door of the apartment building, the young officer standing guard at the door snapped to a semblance of attention when probably for the first time in his fledgling career he found himself within arm's reach of one of the Department's highest ranking officers.

"Good morning Chief," he said as he reached for the handle and opened the door.

"Thank You Officer," the Chief responded with a quick smile as he patted the young officer on the shoulder. Dragona took note of the Chief's personal touch; many years ago, he too had been a rookie and was demonstrating he hadn't forgotten where he came from.

Dragona stopped in the lobby for a moment, surprised it was cleaner than he had expected. Although the area was small, the walls were a clean light brown color, the tile floor, though worn, still bore a dull shine from a recent polish. His first impression was this wasn't a flop house. He looked up at the unusually narrow carpeted stairs leading to the second floor and hesitated before starting to climb them.

For an instant his memory flashed back to Afghanistan; in Kabul he had seen narrow stairs. On more than one occasion his team was tasked with house to house searches of abandoned buildings in the city, deserted except for the Taliban who used them as ambush sites. As the search teams entered, the terrorists would throw a grenade or IED into the stairwell from the second floor. Troops were essentially trapped in the confined entrance space; in seconds the exploding devices would spew death or horrific injury. Each house search was like Russian roulette.

Chief Prentiss recognized Dragona's hesitation; "Are you all right, Danny?"

"Yeah, Chief. I'm okay. It must be the hour that's hitting me. C'mon, let's go," he said as he started the climb to the third floor. As they turned onto the second-floor landing, they saw several uniform officers going door to door waking up the residents, looking for possible witnesses. Several of the residents wearing nightclothes were standing in the hallway, whispering among themselves as they watched the police activity.

"Someone knows what they're doing," Chief Prentiss said, nodding toward what cops referred to as the neighborhood canvass being conducted despite the hour.

The victim's apartment on the third floor was a studio, now teeming with activity. Standing in the hallway at the apartment door were a half-dozen detectives. Dragona recognized Det. Lieutenant Ramon Consuelo, whom he had worked with when they both were assigned to Bronx Homicide. The detectives all stopped talking, surprised to see a high-ranking department leader at the scene. Lt. Consuelo stepped toward him and snapped a quick salute to Chief Prentiss.

"Chief, surprised to see you here, Sir."

"Bad news travels fast Lieutenant. Are you in charge here?"

"I am Sir."

"Good. This is Captain Dragona."

"I know, we've worked together before; good to see you, Danny," the Lieutenant said as he reached out and shook Dragona's hand. "And congratulations, I think, on your new assignment!"

"Time will tell on that, Ramon. Give us a quick briefing on what you have here."

"This is a bad one," the Lieutenant said as he started to explain. "We believe the victim is Bethany Bennett, a white female in her early twenties. Looks like she was stabbed over by the stove and then dragged into the bathroom and dumped into the tub. She's nude, there's a massive wound to her left chest just below her breast, probably a cleaver or butcher knife was the murder weapon." He hesitated before he continued.

"She was mutilated in the tub, her face has been cut off, it looks almost like a surgical procedure. It's gruesome, I've never seen a murder like this one."

Dragona looked at the Lieutenant and noticed he slightly shuddered as he described the wounds.

"The apartment's so damn small I can only have two of the techs inside at one time. They'll take a video of the scene, grab some still shots and see what we have for physical evidence. The uniforms are canvassing the people in the other apartments; so far no one has offered anything to help us."

"Who found the body?" Chief Prentiss asked.

"Her girlfriend who lives three doors down. She and the victim both work at a strip club in Manhattan. She said the victim worked the lunch and happy hour shift and went home. The friend finished her shift at midnight and got back here a little after one. She said she knocked on the victim's door to see if she was up and wanted to split a bottle of wine. She found the door was unlocked which was a red flag. She said religiously they both always locked their doors. The friend said she poked her head inside and saw all the blood on the floor by the stove, that's when she freaked out and ran out into the hall screaming for help."

"Who actually found the body?" Dragona asked.

"A neighbor at the end of the hall. He heard the friend screaming and came out to see what was going on. She told him about the blood, he went inside and saw the victim was dead in the tub. He called 911."

As the Lieutenant finished his briefing, the two techs who had been working inside the apartment stepped out into the hallway.

Both quickly pulled the surgical masks from their noses, they looked pale, almost shell-shocked as they gasped to breathe.

"Jesus," one of them said as he ripped the mask from his head and wiped his gown covered forearm across his wet brow. "I've never seen anything this barbaric in all the years I've been doing this." He shook his head and stretched his neck. "I've got to get out of here, I can't stand the feeling I got in there." He almost stumbled as he brushed past Dragona and the Chief as he headed for the stairs, seemingly blind to their presence in the hallway. Lieutenant Consuelo quickly motioned to one of the plainclothes detectives standing nearby to help the tech downstairs. The second tech pulled the facemask from his head. He looked up and recognized the Chief.

"You don't want to go in there, Chief. The stench is getting overpowering and when you see what this guy did to her, you won't be able to sleep for a month," the man said.

Chief Prentiss reached out and placed his hand on the man's shoulder. "Son, if you had to look at her, so do I. I need to know what you had to deal with so I can help all of you get past this. Thank you for your strength to do your work."

Turning to Dragona the Chief said, "Let's do this."

Lt. Consuelo handed both men surgical masks, Dragona reached into his jacket pocket for the jar of petroleum jelly, wiped his finger inside it and smeared the mentholated cream under his nose. He handed the jar to the Chief who did the same. They both donned the surgical masks and stepped inside the apartment.

Surprisingly, the apartment didn't show signs of a struggle. To the left, blood was splattered on the stove, having dripped down to form a large puddle on the floor. A trail of splatter leading to the small bathroom indicated the victim had been dragged into it.

Dragona saw Det. Carmen Della-Rosa standing by the tub, her nose and mouth covered with a surgical mask. She turned and looked at him and the Chief. 'The person who did this has some surgical skills," she said. "I can't believe a human being would kill another in such a horrific way."

She stepped out of the bathroom and motioned for Dragona to look. He had seen horrific trauma on the battlefield, he never thought he'd see this in New York City. Lying nude, her feet dangling over the edge of the clawfoot tub, her head resting against the edge by the faucet it could have been the pose of someone enjoying a comfortable soak after a hard day's work. The gaping wound to her heart had bled out to her left side, her long brown hair now matted and tangled in a blood-soaked knot. Her head was tilted slightly to the right, the flesh from what had been her face was completely gone; only her eyes remained in their sockets, fixed as if in a blank stare at the blood splattered white subway tile wall. It was a macabre sight. Dragona swallowed hard and looked over at the Chief who was standing next to him.

"Jesus," the Chief muttered as he slowly shook his head from side to side.

"This wasn't done with a knife," Carmen said. "Look at the precision of the cut. Perfectly scored her from her ear, under her chin to the other ear and then across her forehead under the hairline. The flesh was cut away from the cartilage and bone; see how smooth the remaining cartilage and muscle are. I've seen that before. Only a surgeon's tools could do this."

Dragona knew that Carmen's remark that she had seen this before was drawn from her prior experience as a military nurse. Her NYPD personnel file documented she had enlisted in the Marines upon graduating high school and after basic training was assigned advanced training as a field medic. On her own initiative she took extra classes and had obtained her RN certification. She was assigned as a combat field hospital trauma nurse and served in the Middle East during the Desert Storm operation. When her tour ended, she was discharged and took the NYPD entrance exam. In less than four years her work ethic saw her rise from patrol to the rank of Detective.

"We've had trophy killers over the years," the Chief said, "but never anything like this."

Carmen gave him a puzzled look.

"Trophy. Souvenir. Sometimes they'll take underwear, a lock of hair; we've had a few that cut off body parts, but nothing like this."

Dragona stepped closer to the tub and looked at the floor. Toward the blood splattered faucet end he noticed four distinct small circular impressions; he bent over to take a closer look. He took a photo with his cellphone and asked Carmen to go out in the hall and see if any of the techs had a ruler or tape measure. She did as she was instructed and returned with a twelve-inch plastic ruler. Without disturbing the impressions, he carefully measured the distance of both the length and width between the circles. As he stood up, he saw both the Chief and Carmen were curious.

"It looks like the killer set something down while he did his work. These look like they were made by the legs of something," he explained.

Carmen looked around and remarked, "There's nothing like that in here, let me check the rest of the place."

The Chief and Dragona stepped out of the bathroom and looked around. The apartment was clean, modestly decorated with feminine touches of flowers and some cheap framed pictures of gardens, waterfalls and outdoor scenes. They watched as Carmen went through the drawers of a small wooden dresser that stood next to a single bed. Dragona noticed the bed was made, items on a small nightstand and a TV on a rolling cart seemed undisturbed. The victim had lived modestly, but her pride in her small home was obvious by its neatness.

Dragona went over to the large double-hung window next to the bed and moved the sheer curtain aside. The window was open, he looked closer and saw what appeared to be a scuff mark of dirt on the white painted sill. He took a photo with his phone and went over to the hallway door where Lt. Consuelo and the techs were gathered. Without speaking he inspected the door jamb and frame, there wasn't a sign of forced entry.

"It looks like the perp came up the fire escape and through the window," said one of the techs who stepped forward. "There's what looks like a partial shoe print on the sill"

"I took some close-up pictures of the sill and window lock. It looks like a knife or thin blade screwdriver was used to pry it open from the outside.

Dragona had missed that when he looked at it.

"Did you guys find the murder weapon?" he asked.

"Not that I know," the Lieutenant answered. "They collected some knives from the kitchen but from what they said they didn't see any traces of blood on them."

Carmen Della-Rosa came out into the hallway. "I didn't find her purse, cell phone, or a computer," she said to Dragona. He looked over at Lt. Consuelo.

"The techs took some boxes of evidence from the first sweep of the apartment out to the crime scene truck," he said. "As soon as the ME gets here and we can remove the body, they'll go back in and do the intensive search of the place.

Turning to one of his detectives in the hallway he added, "Dave, take the detective down to the truck and show her everything the guys have collected for evidence." The detective nodded his understanding, bowed and extended his arm in an exaggerated sweeping motion; "After you Madam," he said.

Carmen looked at the man and softly said, "Call me Madam one more time and I'll kick your ass." She turned, smiled sweetly at Dragona, and started down the stairs. The Chief reached out and touched the arm of the detective escorting her and offered some fatherly advice.

"She's dead serious."

Turning to Lt. Consuelo the Chief said, "Your squad will write up the initial report and hand it off to Captain Dragona's unit. They'll take the lead on this. I expect you'll provide them whatever assistance they may need, understood?"

Lt. Consuelo acknowledged the directive and turned to Dragona. "As of the start of this shift I have four unsolved homicides we're working on. You can have this one my friend, I wish you luck."

"Thanks, Ramon," Dragona said. "We've set up our offices over at Manhattan South. I'll need your initial case report ASAP."

Turning to Chief Prentiss he asked, "Who's going to handle the press briefings? This one has front page written all over it."

"My office will handle the press releases." He reached into his badge holder case and pulled out two of his business cards. "This has my Department and personal cellphone numbers. Don't hesitate to call me if you need me to help with anything. I want you to make it crystal clear to your detectives they are not to make any statements to the press about what they saw here tonight," the Chief added.

"I understand Chief," the Lieutenant responded in acknowledgment.

Suddenly the men's conversation was cut short by the sound of a woman screaming. The commotion was coming from the stairwell below. The three men started down the stairs, as they turned onto the second-floor landing, they saw several officers holding back a hysterical woman at the front entrance.

_" No! No!"_ the woman was screaming. _" This must be a mistake. It can't be Bethany. No! No!"_

The Chief and two detectives hurried down the stairs, as they did the woman collapsed into the arms of two uniformed officers. Dragona looked past them and saw a second young woman standing as if frozen in shock, her hand to her mouth, fear written on her face. Behind her was a middle-aged man who seemed vaguely familiar to Dragona but he couldn't put a name to the face. The look on the man's face confirmed the recognition was mutual.

"Dan Dragona?" the man said as he offered his hand in greeting. "Remember me? 114 Precinct? Eight years ago?"

Dragona's memory raced back in time to the year he had spent assigned at the 114th Astoria, Queens precinct. The man's name suddenly came to him.

"Lt. Mike Mikonos! Sure! It's been a long time."

"Sure has; you're looking well Dan. Sorry we have to meet under these circumstances," the man said.

"Mike, what's your connection to all this?" Dragona asked as he glanced at the two young woman in the lobby.

"I retired, I work security at a club in Manhattan, The King's Court."

"How did you hear about this?" Dragona asked.

"Vanessa got a hysterical call from Danielle, she's another one of our dancers. I had driven Danielle here after her shift ended at midnight and dropped her off about one. She called Vanessa fifteen minutes later. Vanessa was on the stage when she called, when she checked her phone messages after her performance Danielle's screaming message was that there was blood all over Bethany's apartment and she had been murdered. Jesus! I can't believe it; she was such a beautiful sweet kid."

As the two men talked, Chief Prentiss walked over, his recognition of Mikonos was instant, he greeted him by name as he shook his hand.

"Chief, Mike was telling me he has a part-time job at the club where the victim and her friends work. We were just discussing him helping me with some background information," Dragona said.

"That would be great, thank you Mike. Now, if you gentlemen will excuse me, I'm heading out. I suspect I'll be having a busy day handling all the media calls when news of this gets out. Good night."

Dragona turned and looked at Mike Mikonos; before he could speak Mike raised his hand to stop him.

"Don't say it. I still have some NYPD blue in my blood. I'll help you as much as I can, but not tonight. I have two more trips taking the dancers home over in the Bronx. How about I meet you late tomorrow, about one. I'm off, I'll meet you for lunch at the Rusty Nail, it's downtown on West 45th Street. They have their own parking area behind the building. I'll wait for you inside at the bar."

Dragona agreed, the men shook hands, Mikonos went back to work.

Dragona's conversation with Mikonos had distracted him from the activity behind him inside the lobby. Paramedics were tending to the two women Mikonos had dropped off, checking their vital signs to make an assessment whether they should be taken to the ER. Two more medics were carrying a chair stretcher down the stairs, they paused to speak briefly with Lt. Consuelo. Dragona stepped aside as they passed going out the door. He looked at the young woman on the stretcher, her eyes were closed, her face ashen, she was softly moaning.

"That's Danielle Howard, the victim's friend and neighbor," Consuelo said. "She's the one who saw the blood all over the floor. The medics said her blood pressure spiked and then plunged. They said she's in shock and needs some fluids and observation at the ER."

Dragona looked around; inside, it appeared the officers and detectives had finished their neighbor canvas and were comparing notes. Outside, the street had been cleared of all but a handful of curious on-lookers who currently were watching a tow truck remove the car the gang members had been driving. The firetrucks and most of the police cars had left, the street was open for traffic. He ran his hands through his hair and yawned. He looked at his watch; it was quarter after five. As he yawned again, he looked up the street and saw the Medical Examiner's van pull up to the curb in front of the building. Two attendants stepped out of the van, opened the rear cargo doors and removed a stretcher. Dragona walked over to them.

"Good Morning guys. Listen, the victim is on the third floor, she's in the bathtub. There's no elevator, the stairwell is narrow. You may have to bring her down to the lobby in a body bag," Dragona explained.

"That figures," one of the attendants grumbled as he shoved the stretcher to the curb and locked the wheel brake. 'The last three stiffs we removed were all on upper floors of walkups. I hope to hell this one's not a fat pig like the last one was."

Dragona's first instinct was to take offense at the man's ridicule of the dead and smack him in the head, but he thought better of it. He walked up close to the man and leaned in toward him.

"This victim was a young woman whose face was mutilated after the perp almost cut her heart out. You'll handle her with care and dignity, do you understand me?" he said, his voice now a low growl.

The ME tech was stunned for a moment, then recovered. "Yeah Chief; we'll take care of her," he said nervously as he tossed the folded body bag to his partner, grabbed some supplies from the van's storage compartment and headed to the front door of the building. Dragona followed them at a distance as they climbed the three flights of stairs.

As they reached the third-floor landing, he saw there were a few neighbors gathered at the end of the hallway watching the activity.

The ME attendants entered the apartment, followed by two of the evidence techs. Dragona heard the smart mouth ME attendant cry out, _" Oh, Jesus Christ!"_ followed by the sounds of hacking and gagging. Obviously, he wasn't prepared for the sight of the faceless victim.

Dragona stood in the doorway and watched as the men worked together to remove the victim from the tub and place her into the body bag. They carefully carried the bag out of the bathroom and momentarily set it down on the kitchen floor. The two crime scene techs looked over at Dragona, the unmistakable look of horror etched on their faces.

"Hey Guys! We're going to need a hand taking her down the stairs," the ME attendant whined as the evidence techs started to walk away. They looked over at Dragona, he nodded and motioned for them to lend a hand. He stepped out into the hallway as the men carried the victim out, the attendant turned and looked at him. "The ME's gonna love you for this one Chief," he said as they started down the stairs.

In a few minutes the body was loaded into the van and headed for the Medical Examiner's morgue for a post-mortem exam.

Dragona went back upstairs and watched as the evidence techs completed their methodical search of the scene. In the kitchen they found a plate in the sink, an almost empty container of Chinese food was in the trash can. A small closet contained a modest number of outfits, a metal rack against the wall was covered with a drawstring sheet to conceal the rest of her wardrobe. She had modest tastes, Dragona thought to himself.

"Hey Captain, take a look at this," one of the techs said as he lifted a scrapbook from a small wooden chest on wheels that served as a stand for the flat screen TV. Dragona opened the book and saw the first photo was of a young woman sitting on a bench overlooking water.

"Think that's the victim?" the tech asked.

Dragona flipped through a few pages and saw the woman was pictured in many of the photos.

"Could be," Dragona answered as he studied the photos. "If it is, she was very pretty."

The tech nodded. "I agree, such a waste of a life."

The search took almost an hour, nothing of obvious evidentiary value was found to help identify the murderer.

Dragona glanced at his watch and saw it was six-thirty. He was functioning on less than six hours sleep from the night before, he needed rest before his one o'clock lunch with Mike Mikonos. He saw Sgt. Manny Diaz and waved him over.

"Manny, I'm going to head home for some sleep," he said. "You and Carmen need to do the same. Plan on us getting together with the team at noon; by then the office should have the Precinct's initial report and copies of the scene photos and videos."

"Sounds like a plan, Boss. I'll see you at noon," he answered in acknowledgement.

As he started out the door, Lt. Consuelo came up behind him. "I'll walk with you Dan. My guys are telling me there's three TV news vans and some reporters down where your car's parked. I'll get you out of here without them grabbing you." As the men walked, they were silent until they reached Dragona's car. Ignoring the shouts from the reporters for a statement, Dragona made his exit unmolested.

After a twenty-minute drive he pulled into the gated parking lot of his Williamsburg condo. He locked the car and walked to the front lobby door, entering his passcode into the keypad. As he stepped inside, he was surprised to see his neighbor Misti Sommers checking her wall mounted mailbox. It was early for her to be leaving for work, he thought.

"Hey! You look like hell, what'd you do? Find a club that stayed open until the rooster crowed and said it's time to go home cowboy?" she asked as she placed her hands on her hips. "You're a bad boy Mr. Dragona!"

Misti was a single woman in her late thirties, slim with long blonde hair. She worked in advertising in Manhattan and lived three doors down from his second-floor unit.

"Oh Dan, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to be fresh. Is it your new job I saw on the TV news?" she quickly added.

"Yeah," he muttered in response.

She moved closer and touched his arm. "Listen, I don't have a date tonight, if you're home and feel up to it, stop over for a glass of wine. You look like you could use some time to relax."

Dragona looked at her; she was a beautiful young woman whose invitation for a drink he had already declined once in the past. It wasn't her; it was him. His work had consumed him, a relationship wasn't in the cards, especially now. Now more than ever, it would take a strong woman to understand the job he had recently been assigned.

"No date?" he asked." Well, the day is young, there's still hope for that knight in shining armor or single young millionaire to appear."

"No thank you," she said laughing. "Already this month too many frogs have tried to grab my ass and kiss me. Think about my offer. And get some rest!" she added with emphasis as she turned and started toward the door. He watched as she walked away. It was obvious to him why a frog would want to grab her.

He slowly went up the stairs to his unit, once inside he quickly undressed, set the alarm for ten-thirty, and went to sleep.
**Chapter 3**

Dragona woke when the clock radio came alive. He slowly rolled to a sitting position, his feet dangling over the edge of the bed. He arched his back to stretch his muscles, thankfully he didn't feel the exhaustion he expected his lack of sleep would bring. He took a quick shower and dressed, grabbing a glass of orange juice from the refrigerator as he moved from the bathroom to the bedroom. He would stop at the deli a few blocks from his condo and get a cup of coffee, as was his morning custom. After strapping his holster and gun on his belt and dropping two extra clips into his sport coat pocket, he was ready to face the day.

At the deli, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee was heavy despite the late morning hour. He glanced at the local papers in the rack, there was no mention of the Hudson Apartments murder. Tomorrow's editions would be a different story he thought to himself. He paid for his coffee and a pastry and headed out for the drive to his office in the Manhattan South Precinct building. When he arrived at quarter to noon, he found his new squad of detectives were all present and accounted for.

Manny Diaz was helping Carmen Della-Rosa pin some crime scene photos onto a large bulletin board. Thankfully, they hadn't posted any close- ups of the victim's faceless body in the tub.

Det. Richard 'Fast Ricky' Malone was at a desk with a young guy Dragona didn't recognize. He went over to the men.

"Boss, this is Tommy Burr, he's from the IT division," Malone explained. "He's helping us crack the passwords for the victim's phone and laptop," pointing to the devices on the desk.

"Thanks," Dragona said to the tech; "We appreciate your help."

Detectives Matt Costa and Paul Burns were sitting at desks butted against each other, going through a stack of photos and paperwork.

"How are you making out, guys?" Dragona asked.

"The Precinct initial report is brief, but not bad. We have names of about a dozen potential witnesses we should interview; co-workers, neighbors, building Super," Costa answered.

"Okay," Dragona said, acknowledging the information. "You two check the hospital and see if the victim's girlfriend, I think her name is Danielle, I don't know her last name, is still a patient or was discharged. She's the one who saw the blood in the apartment and freaked out and it sounds like she knew the victim best. We need to start putting together her background story."

"It says here, Danielle Belden," Costa answered, holding up the Precinct report. "Okay, we'll get started on that."

"Does the Precinct report say anything about the victim's next of kin. Do we know who that is? Were they notified?" Dragona asked.

Costa hesitated as he flipped through the few pages of the report. "Ah, here's something. It says the next of kin is her mother, Amber Bennett she lives in Elmira, New York. It says Elmira PD was contacted by phone at six-thirty this morning; there's nothing else in the report to say what happened. It looks like that was the last entry in the report before they emailed it to us at nine this morning."

"Okay, we need to call Elmira PD and see if they made the notification," Dragona instructed the men. The detectives looked at each other and shook their heads.

"What's the matter? You don't agree with that?" Dragona asked as he pulled a chair over and sat down at the edge of the desks.

"It's not that," Detective Burns explained. "You know how it is. The patrolman they send to tell the mother her kid is dead is going to tell her just that; he isn't going to tell her some psycho cut her face from her head. Who's going to tell her that when she asks how it happened?"

Dragona thought for a few seconds. "From what I saw last night the cause of death will probably be listed as a traumatic stab wound to the heart. Her other injuries will be documented but won't be the cause on the death certificate. I'm sure the story will come out in the papers about her face being mutilated, but hopefully that won't be for a few days. If she learns the details through the press, we can't control that."

"Yeah, you're right," Burns responded. "I'll call Elmira and see if they were able to contact the mother."

"Yah! Got it!" came the outburst from the young tech working on the victim's phone password. "Thank God it was a four-digit numerical, and not a nine-letter word," he said aloud. Dragona went over to look.

"Nice work Tommy," Det. Malone said. "Boss, look here; she's on Facebook and there's a bunch of photos in her gallery," he added as he handed Dragona the phone.

Dragona looked at the Facebook information and saw Bethany Bennett, known to her friends as Beth, listed ten friends; all but three were women. He clicked the photo gallery icon and brought up a few dozen photos, half were outdoor scenes, the other half appeared to have been taken at social functions. He handed the phone back to Det. Malone.

"We'll need to identify the full names of the people she lists as friends and if possible, everybody in the photos. We need to quickly put together a profile of her. I see there's only three guys listed as friends; we need to ID them first."

Malone looked over at Tommy Burr. "I think I can help with that, but I'm an IT tech," Tommy said. "I was instructed to help you with the passwords. I'm not a detective, I'm not sure what I should do."

"Are you a sworn police officer?" Dragona asked.

"I am, I graduated from the Police Academy but I've never worn a uniform. I was assigned directly to IT Services."

Dragona was surprised by his response. "Where did you go to school, Tommy?"

"RIT, up in Rochester. I got my bachelor and master's in computer science and a second degree in forensics."

"And who's you supervisor in the IT Unit?"

"Directly it's Sgt. Halloren, but the Unit is headed by Captain Turk."

"Eddie Turk?" Dragona asked.

"Yes Sir."

Dragona smiled; he had worked a few cases when he needed previous case file research and Eddie Turk was his go to guy for his requests. He looked at Det. Malone and remarked, "Don't let Tommy go anywhere. I'll be right back," as he walked into his office and closed the door. After twenty minutes he came back out.

"Tommy, effective immediately you are assigned to the Violent Crimes Investigation Unit. That's us! Paperwork has been started to promote you to Detective 3rd grade; until it's processed you have that acting rank. I assume you have a gun?" Dragona asked.

Tommy Burr was speechless, his face flushed from a combination of excitement and embarrassment.

"I do...but I...I don't carry it," he stammered.

"Well, starting tomorrow when you report here for work at eight AM, you'll be wearing your gun. And lose the shirt and tie, we're an undercover unit. Just wear casual clothes, but not too casual. Any questions?"

Tommy was too stunned to speak; Det. Malone wasn't. "How?" he asked bluntly.

"Deputy Chief of the Department Malcomb Prentiss," Dragona answered.

"Ah! Your Rabbi! Nicely played, Boss. Tommy Boy, congratulations and welcome to the team! We'll make a detective out of you in short order!" Malone said as he slapped the young guy on the back. "Now, about that gun you don't carry; you do have bullets for it, don't you?"

Tommy Burr's face was now crimson as he nodded his head yes.

"Good!" Malone said. "That's a start!"

Dragona looked at his watch, he had less than twenty minutes to meet retired Lieutenant Mike Mikonos at the Rusty Nail Grille. He told the gathered detectives he had an appointment downtown and left Det. Malone in charge to start building the profile of victim Bethany Bennett. He decided rather than drive, he'd hail a cab out front for the trip to the bar. When he arrived a few minutes past one, he found Mike sitting at the bar nursing a drink.

"I was wondering if you were going to make it or if you were going to sleep through the day. Last night was a rough one for you," he said in greeting as he patted the empty barstool next to him.

Dragona took a seat, the bartender promptly wiped the bar-top in front of him with a rag and asked what he could get for him. "Ginger Ale," he answered; "Not too much ice." The bartender looked miffed he couldn't sell another drink but promptly drew the soda and set the glass down in front of him. Dragona muttered "Thanks," and reached for his wallet. Mike leaned over and stopped him. "I got this," he said, the bartender nodded and went back to his chores.

"So, Mike; what can you tell me about this club where you and the girls work?" Dragona asked.

"Kings Court? It's a high-end club, not a jiggle joint by any means. It's been around for three years now, the customers are mostly business types; bankers, Wall Street, lawyers, white collar. They serve business lunches and dinners in the dining room, there's a side bar and stage where the dancers perform, that's separate from the dining room and has its own entrance from the street."

"What about the girls? Hookers?"

"It's not like you think, Dan. We have tight security; the bouncers and floor bosses keep a sharp eye on the girls when they interact with customers. If they want to hook up with a customer that's their business, but it's on their own time, Honestly, there's not much like that going on from what I've seen. Most of these girls are college educated or still taking classes during the day. They're all looking for that handsome young single millionaire but they're not selling themselves along the way."

"Who runs the place, Mike?"

"Quentin King is the owner," Mike answered. "Recognize the name?"

"Quentin King the Broadway and movie producer?" Dragona asked.

"The same. He's the owner, but the club is run by a German woman, Gisella Hould. She's the business manager. King has a house out in the Hamptons, he comes to the club about once a month to go over the books, but Gisella runs the show."

"Tell me about the victim, Bethany Bennett."

"Beth was a sweetheart, one of my favorites. She was very pretty, well mannered. She worked as a waitress and part-time bartender. The customer's loved her, she always was upbeat, had a smile and kind word for everyone. It tore me up when I heard she had been killed."

"You said your job was to drive the girls' home after work. Isn't that unusual for a club to provide services like that?"

"It is, but that's how Mr. King and Gisella set things up. Did you know he provides some of the girls with free housing in a couple of apartment buildings he owns, he provides medical insurance after six months, and tuition reimbursement for the few girls who are still going to college?"

Dragona was taken aback at the fringe benefits the club was offering, but it begged a question.

"What's in all that for Mr. King," he asked. "This his private harem?"

"No way!" Mike answered with a laugh. "Mr. King plays on the other team!"

"What do you mean, Mike?"

"Danny, he's gay. He and his life partner have been together for as long as I've been working for him."

Dragona thought about what Mikonos was saying, but it didn't make sense to him. Quentin King was a multi-millionaire award winning producer, so money wasn't an issue. But why be so generous with dancers and cocktail waitresses at a bar? He looked at Mikonos who was studying him.

"Danny, I know what you're thinking, but you're wrong. Mr. King never had any kids of his own, these girls are like family to him."

The bartender came over and slid a plate with a roast beef sandwich in front of Mike. "Can I get anything for you Sir?" he asked Dragona.

"No, I'm all set, thank you."

The bartender stared at him and with an exaggerated sigh of distain before he walked away.

"Danny, here, take half the sandwich, I can't eat all this," Mike said as he moved the plate in front of Dragona.

"No, Mike. But thanks. I'm still working off breakfast; you enjoy your lunch."

"All right, but let's move over to a table where we can talk," Mike said as he picked up the plate and walked over to a nearby small table and sat down.

"Mike, I need to ask you some questions about what you did last night when you left the club to drive Bethany home."

"Sure," he said as he took a bite of the sandwich and wiped his mouth with a napkin. "You have a job to do, ask away!"

"You told me this morning that Bethany worked the lunch and happy hour shift and then you took her home."

"Yeah, that's correct. Beth finished up a little after seven, the other girl, Melanie, she's a dancer, finished a little before that and was sitting with me in the lounge waiting for Beth. I dropped Mel off first, her place is in the Bronx, another building Mr. King owns. I watched her go into her apartment building and then brought Beth to Center Street. We got there about eight-fifteen. I waited until she went into the lobby, she turned and waved to me and I thought everything was okay."

"Was that Beth's normal shift? Lunch and happy hour?"

"Pretty much. Sometimes when there was a business dinner scheduled, she'd work later into the evening, but yeah, yesterday would have been a normal shift for her."

"When you dropped her off, did you see anything suspicious or unusual in the neighborhood?"

Mike thought for a moment. "No, the neighborhood looks run down, but in all the times I've driven through there at night I've never had a problem. A few blocks up from there is a battleground with all the drug dealers, but Center Street is usually calm and relatively quiet."

"You said Beth waved to you when she opened the lobby door. Was that her custom?"

"Yeah, I guess so. She did that every night that I dropped her off."

"What do you know about Beth, I mean, what's her story?" Dragona asked.

"Like I said, she was a sweetheart. She told me she lived upstate, Elmira I think or somewhere near there. She has a mother and older sister that still live there. She said she went to a junior college up there and moved down here to take some classes at NYU. She said she was working on a business degree and only needed a few more credits to finish."

"How about at the club? Anybody, customers or co-workers, hitting on her?"

"I don't know, but I never saw anything like that. As I said, I'm basically a driver. You'd have to ask the head bouncer and floor guys about that. She was a beautiful girl; I wouldn't be surprised if guys were hitting on her, but she was mature and seemed as if she could handle that kind of stuff. As far as co-workers, I never saw her being more than just cordial with any of the guys."

"You mentioned the head bouncer. Who's that?"

"Ha! Jerimiah Jordaine."

"You laughed. What's up with that?"

"Wait until you meet him! Jerimiah is Samoan, his father was a diplomat and Jerimiah was raised in England. Danny, he's built like a bull, all muscle not an ounce of fat on him! He would be every cop's dream partner if he was on the job. And better, he's highly educated; private schools and such living in England. He watches over the girls as if each of them was his little sister, and he demands his floor crew treat them the same way. Personally, I think the club has been as successful as it has because of him and Gisella."

"That's good to know, I can't wait to meet them," Dragona said.

"I figured that. When I spoke with Gisella this morning she said she wanted to meet with you."

Dragona looked at his watch, it was a few minutes past two. "Mike, I appreciate the information you've provided. I need to get back to the office, but I need your help to set something up so I can interview the people at the club."

"Way ahead of you, friend. I'll stop by the club when I finish lunch. The best time to meet with Gisella is around four. The place is busy but doesn't start getting packed until five-thirty or six. I'll tell Jerimiah to expect you."

"Thanks," Dragona said as he stood up and shook Mike's hand. He pulled a twenty out of his wallet and dropped it on the table.

"Hey! You don't have to do that," Mike said in protest." I have a pretty good pension thanks to NYPD. I can buy myself a bourbon and roast beef sandwich."

"I'm sure you can my friend, but today I want to buy your lunch. Enjoy! I'll stop by the club this afternoon."

Dragona left the bar and quickly hailed a cab out front. Fifteen minutes later he was walking into his offices at Manhattan South.

"How are you making out?" he asked as he stopped at the desks where Det. Costa and Tommy Burr were going through a stack of printouts.

"Good, Boss. Tommy did a great job researching the victim's male friends on Facebook, he put together a file on each of them. At first glance it looks like two are guys she went to school with in Elmira, the third we think is the husband of one of her girlfriends. We ran them for criminal histories, they're clean. Tommy's working on researching where they live and what their employment might be."

"Great, thanks, Tommy. Speaking about Elmira; any word back from the PD about notifying the mother?"

"Yeah," Costa answered. "They called and said it went down just as I thought it would. They told the mother the victim had been murdered but they didn't have any details. The mother said she and the victim's sister were coming into the City tomorrow and they want to speak with the person in charge of the investigation."

"Okay," Dragona responded as he looked around. "Where's Manny and Paul Burns?" he asked.

"They got called back to the crime scene," Det. Costa answered. "Apparently one of the neighborhood homeless found some bloody clothes in a dumpster two buildings down from the victim's apartment building. He flagged down the sector car thinking maybe there was a reward for any information connected with the murder. The precinct cops checked it out and called us. I haven't heard from them, so I don't know what they have there."

As Dragona headed for his office he glanced across the room and saw Carmen Della-Rosa was on the phone. Their eyes met; she raised her hand motioning for him to come over. As he approached her desk, she hung up the phone and leaned back in her swivel desk chair.

"That was the Assistant Medical Examiner, and he's not a happy camper!"

"Why? What's his problem?"

"Aside from going on about how horrific the victim's face was mutilated, he's pissed because Chief Prentiss called the ME and is putting pressure on him to move up the priority of the victim's autopsy."

"Where are we on the list?"

"After the Chief's phone call, we're scheduled for three-thirty today. He wants someone from our office to be present to answer some questions."

Dragona quickly looked around the office and returned his eyes to Carmen,

"I know, I know. I'm going to the autopsy," she said with resignation.

"Well, it only makes sense. You're the one on the team with medical training," Dragona offered as his rationale. "I'm interested in knowing the ME's opinion on how long it would take to slice off the victim's face with the precision that we saw."

"What's your thinking about that?" Carmen asked.

"A timeline. We know that she was dropped off at her apartment around eight fifteen. Her friend saw the blood on the kitchen floor around one-fifteen. The murder was committed in that five-hour span."

"Okay, that's a start," Carmen said, "But what troubles me is we saw a lot of blood smears on the kitchen floor and in the bathroom on the floor around the tub. To dismember a body like that, especially the face which would bleed after a fresh kill even if the victim's heart stopped pumping, the murderer should have been covered with blood. But we didn't see any bloody footprints leading to the door or the fire escape. Here, look at these photos to see what I mean," she added as she opened a manila file and spread the photos on her desk. "How the hell did the murderer leave the apartment? And if he wore protective clothing, what did he do with it? I mean, he would have had to carry it out of the place. And here, look at these photos of the fire escape landing and windowsill. There's no bloodstains, not even a drop."

Dragona raised the photos to his face for closer inspection. He saw that Carmen had a point. He took out his cellphone and clicked on the photo gallery. He clicked on the shot of the four round impressions on the floor beside the tub.

"Remember, we saw this?" he asked as he turned the camera toward her.

"Yeah," she answered as she took the phone for closer inspection. "Could those be from one of those rolling luggage bags? I mean, the wheels wouldn't leave those marks but some of them have a flat platform on the bottom so the bag stands upright off the wheels."

"That's possible," Dragona surmised as he took back his phone. "That could explain how the murderer removed any bloody clothes and knives he used."

"Hmmm..." Carmen muttered as she leaned back in her chair." I'm thinking the killer bought surgical tools with him. The incisions are too precise to have been made by a knife."

"So, what are you saying? Dragona asked. "The murderer is a surgeon or a doctor?"

"Maybe. Or a veterinarian, an undertaker, a butcher. Who knows?" she answered. Their discussion abruptly ended when Det. Sgt Manny Diaz and Det. Paul Burns came through the office door carrying a black plastic trash bag.

"Hey Boss! We may have something here," Manny said as he placed the bag on the conference table. The others in the squad room gathered around.

Sgt. Diaz explained. "A homeless guy was scavenging dumpsters in the neighborhood. He found this bag two houses down from the murder scene. I can't open it here, it stinks, but inside it looks like rolled up bloody clothes and paper towels or wraps."

The detectives looked over at Dragona. "Manny, take the bag downstairs to the Crime Scene Unit. I'll call Lt. Consuelo and ask that his techs look at the contents ASAP and send us an itemized list and photos of everything."

"Geez," Det. Costa said, "I hope the victim's face isn't in there."

"Why don't you take a look then," Carmen quipped.

"No, Senorita; ghoulish matters are your domain."

"Si! I'm going to the autopsy. You wanna go, Chico?" she asked in an exaggerated Spanish accent.

"No thanks, we have witnesses to re-interview at the murder scene. Sarge, you ready to head out?"

"Yeah, I think I need some fresh air." Detective Burns picked up the trash bag and held it at arm's length as he headed toward the door. "Boss, don't forget to call the Lieutenant. I don't want some poor slob to open the bag without knowing what it is," he called out as they left."

"I'll do it right now, Paul. You guys just go, and make sure you fill out an evidence submission form," Dragona answered as he turned to walk to his office and make the call.

After a brief conversation with Lt. Consuelo, Dragona brought up on his computer the arrest report of the gangbangers who were arrested at the murder scene. He saw that the suspect who tried to slash Carmen's face was being held for arraignment on a fifty-thousand-dollar bond.

He looked up the other names, all had been arrested for the weapons' possession violation, all had bonded out on seemingly low bail. He shook his head in disgust at the judge's obvious lenient handling of the hardcore gang criminals' cases.

The office desk phone rang, he looked at the caller ID and saw it was from One Police Plaza. He answered; it was Deputy Chief Prentiss.

"Danny, I just wanted to give you a head's up. I'm being inundated with calls from the media. I spoke with the Commissioner; he wants me to hold a press conference for the five o'clock TV news. The Mayor was on the conference call, he's concerned the word will get out that the victim was an employee of Quentin King. I assume by now you know that and know who he is."

"Yeah, I spoke at length with Mike Mikonos earlier today, he filled me in," Dragona answered.

"Good! What Mike probably didn't tell you is that King's involvement has some political implications."

"What do you mean, Chief?"

"Tomorrow night the Mayor, Police Commissioner and a hundred or so business leaders and celebrities will be attending a political fundraising event at King's Hampton's estate. The guest of honor is the Vice-President. The Mayor doesn't want any hint of a scandal spoiling the event."

"Well, I wasn't invited, so that eliminates one hint of scandal," Dragona quipped as he leaned back in his office chair and put his feet on the desk.

"I wasn't invited either, but off the record, if I was, I would suddenly come down with some form of communicable disease," the Chief retorted. "The scandal will probably come from the media. Already they're dubbing the murderer as the Brooklyn Butcher."

"Any idea who talked?" Dragona asked as he put his feet back on the floor.

"No, but I'm not surprised" the Chief said. "There were so many people at the scene, it could have been anyone. The damage is done, we can't worry about that now. What's the status of your investigation?"

Dragona brought the Chief up to speed, his report ending by telling him he would be visiting the King's Court to interview the Manager in an hour.

"Are you thinking that's the key to develop a suspect?" the Chief asked.

"It must be Chief. This murder is so off the wall it couldn't have been a random attack. Someone was watching this girl and went to great lengths to plan it. He had to make a mistake somewhere along the way. I can feel it in my gut."

"All right, keep me posted. I'm counting on you Danny," the Chief said as he ended the call.

Dragona gathered up some blank possessed property reports and evidence envelopes from his desk drawer and put them into his leather portfolio. He went out to the squad room and saw Carmen rummaging through her desk drawers. He looked over and saw Tommy Burr studying something on his computer screen.

"What are you looking for?" he asked Carmen. She looked up. "I'm trying to find something for Tommy Boy. I know it's in here somewhere," she said as she slammed a drawer and opened another. Judging from the clutter Dragona could see had been crammed into it, he wondered what the inside of her oversized shoulder bag must look like. "Ah, here it is," she said as she held up a silver chain with an attached gold detective's shield.

"What's that for?" Dragona asked.

"I have a few extra badges. If he's going to be a detective on this squad, he should look like one."

Carmen started to walk over to Tommy's desk, Dragona reached out and touched her arm.

"Wait a minute. I'm going over to King's Court to interview the manager. I want to take the scene photos with me."

Carmen nodded her head, picked up the photo folder from her desk and handed it to him. "Don't lose them."

She walked over to Tommy's desk.

"Hey Tommy Boy, you're a detective now, and you need a badge. Until you get your new shield, use this," she said as she handed it to him. "When you're out in public wear it around your neck inside your shirt. Never display it unless you're in this building or at a crime scene, got it?"

"Got it, and thank you," he said as his face again flushed red.

"Just relax, you're in our squad now, we'll all help you along. You'll get the hang of it. Now, I'm going to the victim's autopsy, the guys are out in the field doing interviews. When you leave at five, if the guys aren't back yet, just be sure the office door is locked. Got it?"

"Got it," Tommy responded.

"Okay, tomorrow morning, eight AM, casual clothes, wear your gun and make sure you put bullets in it. Okay, I'm going to the victim's autopsy, behave yourself while I'm gone," she said as she took her hand and mussed his hair. "Ready Boss?" she asked turning to Dragona. As hard as he tried, he couldn't help but grin.

"That was really nice of you," Dragona said to Carmen as they waited in the hallway for the elevator.

"Nah, it's nothing. He seems like a nice kid; young, though. I did some research on him this afternoon. He didn't just graduate from RIT with two degrees; he had a 4.0 grade point average. And the Police Academy? He graduated first in his class academically and fired a perfect three hundred on the pistol range. I think he's a keeper."

Dragona looked at her in amazement.

"How the hell did you find all that out?"

"I know people in high places other than at Internal Affairs, you know. Don't ask!"

The elevator arrived, they stepped in; Dragona didn't ask.
**Chapter 4**

Dragona walked out in front of the Manhattan South Building and saw a cab waiting at the curb. He leaned into the open passenger's window, the driver nodded and he got into the back seat. He saw the driver was the same man who had driven him to the Rusty Nail.

As the taxi pulled from the curb, the driver asked, "Where to Boss?"

"King's Court. It's a club downtown."

"I know the place," the driver said. As he drove, he seemed to be frequently glancing into his rearview mirror. Dragona took notice.

"Something wrong?" he asked.

"No, just wondering. You the one they call The Dragon?"

"Yeah, that's what the papers call me. Why?"

The driver looked in the mirror, reached down and handed a thin newspaper over the seat

"It's this afternoon's City Street," the driver said. Dragona had heard of it; an indie breaking-news rag that had built a strong following in the inner city for its twice daily crime reports. The headline caught his attention; **_' The Dragon Hunting the Brooklyn Butcher.'_** The underlying story reported he was leading the investigation and re-hashed his war record, thus the nickname.

He quickly read the article, surprised to see the level of detail it was reporting on the background of Bethany Bennett; someone had to be leaking information on the case. He took a deep breath and saw the writer had described in graphic, albeit embellished, detail that the victim had been raped and her face surgically removed from her head. He handed the paper back to the driver who tucked it into the seat next to him. "Don't believe everything you read," he told the man. Dragona knew that up to this point there was no evidence Bethany had been raped.

In ten minutes, the cab pulled up in front of King's Court and stopped. The meter read the fare was fourteen-fifty. Dragona reached over the seat and handed the driver a twenty. "Keep it," he said.

The driver handed it back. "Nah, you're on the job. Consider it a professional courtesy. Just find the son-of-a-bitch who killed the girl." Dragona tucked the bill back into his wallet and got out. Before he could thank the driver, he pulled away, tires screeching.

As he entered the club, he was awestruck by its elegance; this was no strip joint. His eyes were immediately drawn to the large deeply tanned man standing near a podium in the entrance lobby; he could be Chief Prentiss's driver Earl the Pearl's twin, except shorter. Unmistakably, this had to be Jerimiah Jordaine.

Dragona approached the man and presented his credentials. "Good Afternoon. I'm Captain Dragona, NYPD. I have an appointment with Ms. .Hould."

"Ah! The Dragon! Yes Sir. Mr. Mikonos told us to expect you. Ms. Gisella is in her office, follow me please." Dragona was surprised by the man's deep baritone voice and distinctly British accent. Not only was Jerimiah huge, he had a professional bearing about him; calm but not slow, a measured gait. He was smartly dressed in dark dress slacks and starched open collar button-down white shirt. His appearance was imposing.

As they walked through the club, Dragona noticed there was already a crowd of twenty or thirty business types, mostly in three-piece suits, animated in their conversations, but not rowdy. Several attractive women waitresses were taking drink orders and chatting with the customers. The ambiance of the place wasn't what he had been expecting of a gentlemen's club, it resembled a cocktail party.

Jerimiah knocked on a closed wooden door, a voice from inside answered, "Come-in." Jerimiah opened it and motioned for Dragona to enter, announcing, "Ms. Gisella, Captain Dragona."

The woman rose from behind her desk to greet him, her physical appearance was one more surprise Dragona would encounter at King's Court. Expecting to see a younger woman, stylish and sexy in her role as house mother for the bevy of gorgeous college age young women who worked at the establishment, Gisella had the look of a grandmother. She was attractive for a woman of sixty as he guessed her age, but her eyes gave her away; somewhat distant as her gaze darted to the side, yet focused; penetrating.

"Captain Dragona, thank you for coming. Please, have a seat," she said as she motioned toward two nearby wingback armchairs.

"Can I get you a drink? Coffee? Tea?" she asked as he sat down.

'No, thank you," he answered as he set his portfolio down on the glass top coffee table.

"If you don't mind, I'll have a glass of wine. The past twenty-four hours have been a nightmare. I'm devasted by Bethany's death. Do you know who killed her?"

"No, not yet. That's why I'm here. I need some information from you."

"Of course, Captain. Mr. King and I want to help any way we can."

Gisella stood and looked at him but didn't speak. She went across the room to a portable bar and poured herself a glass of red wine. She came back over to her chair and sat down, taking a delicate sip from her glass.

"Ms. Hould, I've been told that Bethany was a waitress and part-time bartender. I need to know if she was having problems with any of your customers."

"Problems? No, none whatsoever. Everyone loved her, she was beautiful, very feminine, a truly gentle soul."

"What about co-workers. I was told you have several young guys that work as bouncers and floor men. Any issues with them?"

"No not at all. Jerimiah keeps them in line, they wouldn't dare do anything to make him angry, especially when it came to Bethany."

"Oh? Did Jerimiah show any favoritism toward her?"

"Jerimiah treats all of our girls as if they're his little sisters, but yes, Bethany was his favorite. She was just such a sweetheart and they seemed to bond right after she started working here."

Dragona was puzzled by her remark. Why would Jerimiah do that? Was he in love with her? Were they romantically involved outside of work?

"I should explain," Gisella said." Obviously, our girls work here for the money. We compensate them well above market rates, we provide benefits no other club offers, they keep all their tips. Most of our girls are hoping for careers as actresses, dancers or models. Being in the entertainment business, Mr. King frequently becomes aware of employment opportunities, things like TV commercials, cameo appearances, extras in films, and he passes them on to the girls through me. Bethany was the exception. Although a beauty in her own right, she was pursuing a degree in finance. She was brilliant when it came to business acumen and had a natural talent for it. For the past six months I was using her as my office assistant a few hours a week to help her get a feel for how to run a business like this. I think that's why Jerimiah thought so highly of her. She wasn't seeking the spotlights, just a stable future."

"Okay, I can understand that," Dragona said, "but as a matter of routine I'm going to need the names and addresses of all of your employees."

"I suspected you might want that, so I prepared a spreadsheet for you this morning," Gisella said as she went over to her desk and pulled a document out from under the desk blotter.

"Is there anything else I can help you with?" she asked as she handed him the spreadsheet and sat down, reaching for her wineglass.

"Yes. What can you tell me about Mr. King?"

"What do you want to know?"

"Well my impression of this club and how you're running the business makes me think it leaves a lot of room for someone to take advantage of these women."

Gisella let out a laugh. "You mean all of these beautiful young women? Do you think they're his sex playthings?"

"Well, think about it," Dragona answered. "In today's social environment there's a significant number of wealthy and highly placed men who are being accused of sexual harassment and worse. I think it's a fair question to ask if Mr. King is like that."

"Certainly, but that's more a blunt question than a fair one. Don't you know? Mr. King is gay. He's been in a life partner relationship for several years now. He leads a very private personal life."

"I had heard that. Out in the Hamptons, correct? Who's his life partner?" Dragona asked.

For the first time in their conversation Gisella hesitated before she answered. Dragona detected a change in the look in her eyes, the first crack in her pleasant but businesswoman persona. She took a few seconds before she answered.

"Eton Boucher."

"B-o-u-c-h-e-r?" Dragona asked.

"Yes. he pronounces it Boo-shay."

"What's his story?" he asked.

"His story?" Gisella asked.

"Mr. King told me he met him at a spa outside of Paris where Eton was a physical trainer. They apparently hit it off, a few weeks after Mr. King returned to the States, he brought Eton over from France and they've been together ever since."

"How old is Eton," Dragona asked.

Again, Gisella hesitated before she answered. "Thirty-five."

Dragona refrained from asking the obvious next question; how old is Quentin King? From his memory of reading about the man over the years, Dragona suspected he was pushing seventy, if he already hadn't passed that milestone.

Gisella glanced at her watch; "Captain, it's getting late and I'm pressed for time to make sure all the registers are zeroed out before we start happy hour and the evening shift. She reached into a dish on the coffee table and handed him a card. "This has my direct phone number, please call if I can be of further assistance."

Dragona stood up, extended his hand and said, "Thank you for your time, but there is one more thing. I'd like to speak directly in person with Mr. King. Can you arrange that?"

"I can check with Mr. King to see what his availability is. I do know he's very busy these days with some business matters, and he's not scheduled to come into the City for another two or three weeks."

"Well, please see what you can do for me. I'd hate to be forced to show up at his estate with a subpoena for him to appear before a grand jury.

"A subpoena? A Grand Jury? Why?" she asked incredulously.

"Bethany Bennett's death was a heinous crime. We have many more questions about her life, especially her employment and any information that might link the murderer to her work here at the club. I'm sure you understand."

"No! I absolutely don't understand! I've been very cooperative with you." she stammered, her face flushing from anger.

"Yes, you have; and I appreciate that. Now it's Mr. King's turn to be cooperative. Thanks again, I'll find my own way out," Dragona said as he picked up his portfolio and left the office.

He walked out into the club's main gathering room and noticed the size of the crowd had increased from when he had arrived.

As he walked toward the podium where Jerimiah was standing, he realized eyes were turning toward him, the conversation from the crowd quieting, a few of the men pointing him out to their buddies.

He glanced down at a table as he walked past it and saw a copy of the afternoon's City Streets newspaper with its glaring headline about Bethany Bennett's murder. He grimaced. The young guy reading the paper looked up at him but didn't speak.

"Anything I can help with Sir?" Jerimiah asked as Dragona walked up to him.

"Yeah, maybe. When I came in, I noticed you have a few cameras in the ceiling. Can I assume you have a surveillance system?"

"Ah, you have a good eye. Most people think those little domes are sprinklers. Yes, we do. We have many cameras."

"Are the cameras being recorded?"

"They are," Jerimiah answered as he looked around as if to see if anyone was watching them. "Would you like to see our system?"

"I would, very much."

Jerimiah led the way across the room and entered a passcode into a keypad next to a locked door. As they stepped inside, Dragona was taken aback by the number of cameras being displayed on large wall mounted monitors. It reminded him of a casino security operations center.

Jerimiah introduced the middle-aged man at the control desk and informed the man who Dragona was. He started to rise from his chair in greeting, Dragona rested his hand on the man's shoulder and motioned for him it wasn't necessary to stand.

"We record everyone coming into and leaving the club, entrances to the women employees' dressing room, the restroom hallways, dining rooms, the bars and cash registers," Jerimiah explained as he pointed out four of the monitors, each displaying eight different camera views.

Pointing out four additional monitors he explained those cameras monitored the club room bar, stage, and multiple views of the patron tables for guests watching the dancers perform.

Even in the early afternoon hour, two dancers were on the stage entertaining about twenty or twenty-five customers. As Dragona glanced at a camera monitoring the bar in the dining room, he had a thought. If someone was stalking Bethany, where better to watch her than where she worked.

"Did Bethany work behind the bar last night?" he asked.

"She did," Jerimiah answered. He tapped the system operator on the shoulder." Bring up last night's video of the main bar."

The man typed a command into the keyboard and a few seconds later the bar scene appeared. As it turned out there were two cameras, one at each end of the bar facing out to view the patrons seated on stools. Dragona looked at the time stamp and noticed it read a few minutes past six. All the barstools were filled, an additional half dozen men stood behind them.

"Can you freeze that?" he suddenly asked as the camera captured a view of the bartender as she turned to reach a bottle of liquor from the shelf behind her. The operator did as he was asked, Dragona stared at the image. He had only seen a few photos of Bethany in the scrapbook at her apartment, but he realized they had not done her justice. She wasn't just pretty, she was beautiful. Her flawless face was enough to stop any guy in their tracks.

As he stared at the image the operator asked, "Would you like me to print that frame out for you?"

"I would. How many days video are stored in your system?"

"We can go back about thirty days," the man answered as he sent the image to a nearby printer. He stood up and walked across the room, retrieved it and gave it to Dragona. "Do you think that the guy who killed Bethany is one of our customers?"

"We're looking at a number of possibilities, but yeah, that would seem like a good place for us to start."

The man looked over at Jerimiah for a moment, then turned back to Dragona. "How can I help?"

"Go back through the video for the hours Bethany was working, starting with yesterday's shift. See if you can find any video of guys hitting on her or watching her more than you think a normal guy would look at a pretty woman. Print still frames of any guys you come up with."

Dragona reached into his jacket pocket and took two of his business cards from his notebook and handed one to each man.

"Give me a call tomorrow afternoon and let me know what you find," he said and thanked the man for his time.

Jerimiah escorted Dragona to the front door, as they stepped outside, he raised his hand in the air to hail a cab. As if out of nowhere one immediately pulled up to the curb. Dragona looked over in surprise.

Jerimiah grinned. "We have our regular cabbies waiting down the street," he explained. "They love us. Most of our customers leave here in a good mood and tend to be generous tippers after a few hours of beautiful women and drinks."

"I'll do my best to uphold your stellar reputation," Dragona replied as he shook Jerimiah's hand and slid into the back seat of the cab.

Traffic was heavy, the cabby was quiet as he made his way back to West 35th Street. When they arrived, he paid the fare, adding a reasonable tip. Inside the building he went upstairs to his offices and found his detectives huddled around a conference table.

"What are you guys doing?" Dragona asked as he handed the packet of crime scene photos to Carmen Della-Rosa and pulled up a chair. As he sat down, he was surprised to see Tommy Burr was sitting across from him busily typing on a laptop.

"Chief Prentiss sent an email to all the detective units asking them to forward to us the case cover sheets for all unsolved homicides that had a mutilation or trophy component over the last two years," explained Sgt. Manny Diaz. "Reports have been coming in all afternoon, we have it narrowed down to five cases where the victims were females under age thirty, all indoor crime scenes."

"Any of the cases have the face cut off?" Dragona asked.

"Nope, ours is the only one. We have an assortment of body parts of the others; breasts, hands, fingers, feet, but no faces." Dragona looked over at Carmen.

"What were the autopsy findings?"

"They started before I got there. Cause of death was multiple stab wounds to the heart. The ME said death occurred immediately."

"Sexually assaulted?"

"No, she wasn't sexually active."

The men looked puzzled by Carmen's answer.

"She was a virgin," Carmen explained. The men were deathly silent.

"We might have something from the bag the homeless guy found in the dumpster," Det. Burns said to recover from the awkward moment.

"While we were downstairs logging it in for transport to the crime lab the tech took a swab from the bloody clothes and did a quick blood type exam for us. In looking at this preliminary report Carmen got from the ME's office, the blood type matches the victim's type."

"Okay, that's a start," Dragona said as he stood up and walked over to Carmen's desk. "What was in the bag? Her clothes? Anything the perp might have worn to keep the blood off him? This had to have been a bloody mess as he was mutilating her," he asked as he looked over at Costa,

"The crime scene guy said they would need to empty the bag and dry everything out before they could inventory it," Costa explained. "Maybe we'll get lucky and they'll find something with his DNA."

"All right, we'll just have to wait. Do we have names and addresses of the guys pictured on her Facebook page?"

"We might have them, Tommy's working on that," Costa said as he nodded across the room at the young new detective who seemed oblivious to the conversation around him. "He's cross referencing the names with the motor vehicle databases in the states they've listed as where they're from. I don't know how accurate that will be, but it's a start for us."

Dragona opened his portfolio and took out the spreadsheet of King's Court employees that Gisella Hould had given him.

"This is a list of current employees at King's Court. We need to interview everyone on it to see if they have information on anyone who may have been hitting on the victim."

The three detectives looked at each other and grinned.

"That will be a pleasure, Boss," the detective responded, his grin widening. "From what I've heard about the place, those girls are the hottest dancers in the city."

"You guys are lechers," Carmen Della-Rosa chimed in. "You wish you could afford to buy ten-dollar beers in that place."

"True, but a close-up look don't cost nothing, Seniorita," Costa shot back."

"In your dreams, creep."

"Hey! Knock it off. I went there. This place is upscale; these girls aren't hookers. The clientele is shirt and tie, big bucks, big spenders. This isn't a pleasure cruise guys. Remember why we're doing this," Dragona cautioned them. He caught a glimpse of Carmen sticking her tongue out at the men as she reveled in their rebuke.

"Tommy, I need your advice on something," Dragona said. The young detective turned from his work and had that "who me?" look on his face.

"Tommy, the club has an elaborate video surveillance system and I'm thinking whoever murdered the girl was stalking her while she was working. I want to get a search warrant for their archived video; they said the system stores about thirty days. How would we seize that quantity?"

The new detective thought for a moment. "It depends on how many cameras they're recording, the frame speed. Systems like that most often have multiple servers to store the data. You'd have to seize the entire system and then re-assemble it to view the video. That could be a huge job."

"I get it, but is it doable?" Dragona asked.

"Yeah, it is, but I'm wondering if that's the best way to go about this," he answered as he stood up and walked over to Dragona.

"Then tell me how to do it." Dragona said. The others in the room looked stunned. Their boss, an experienced and highly decorated investigator was asking a neophyte addition to their squad how to seize evidence.

"Well, I couldn't help but overhear you saying the victim worked as a bartender. Do any of the cameras view the bar?" Tommy asked.

"They do," Dragona answered.

"What about the entrances and exits?"

"Yeah, both. What are you thinking?" Dragona pressed.

"I would suggest downloading video from just those cameras. That could be done as a file transfer."

"I have large storage drives that could handle that volume of data without having to seize the whole system, but I'll need to download the operating system program.

"Can you do that?"

"Sure."

"Okay," Dragona said as he stood up and turned to Det. Burns. "Paul, you're the expert on warrants; sit down with Tommy and show him how we write up a search warrant application. Tommy, you'll need to give Paul the descriptive information on what we want to seize; just keep it simple, the judge won't need to know the technical description on how the system works. Get as much done tonight as you can, I'd like to have the search warrant in hand by ten tomorrow. Tommy, are you okay with sticking around for a few more hours?"

"Yeah, sure," the young detective answered.

Turning to Ricky Malone and Manny Diaz he said, "You guys go and dress up and head over to the club. Go in through the bar entrance, that's where the dancers perform. I've been told the girls aren't hookers but we need to watch how they operate with the customers to see if that's true. The head bouncer is a big Samoan, his name is Jerimiah. Watch how his floor crew handles any customers that get grabby with the girls, and don't get hammered while you're there! Remember you're working and we're looking for a sadistic murderer."

"Hey! You pickin' up the tab, Boss?" asked Malone.

"Yeah, I've got some cash for buy money and informants, I'll give you a hundred each. Just remember I need to account for how it's spent. We're not trying to buy the place; we're just renting some barstool time," Dragona answered.

"Boss; your money will be professionally spent," Malone assured him.

"Just make sure none of it is spent on a professional," Dragona shot back as he headed into his office.
**Chapter 5**

"You have a minute, Boss?" Det. Carmen Della-Rosa asked as she knocked on Dragona's office door before entering.

"Sure. C'mon in."

As she settled into a chair in front of his desk, she was holding a stack of papers in her hand.

"I ran the names of the girls who work at the club listed on the spreadsheet you were given, none of them have criminal records.

"Does that surprise you?" Dragona asked. "I told you this club is high end; the girls are making big bucks and so far, everything I've heard is telling me they're not hookers or dopers."

"No, it's not that, it's just that I don't think the guys on the squad are the right fit to be interviewing the girls."

"What do you mean? Did someone say something out of line?"

"No, just the usual male macho bullshit about how hot the girls are. You mentioned you thought the killer must be someone who had access to the victim at her job, someone who knew her routine, where she lived. I think I'm a better fit to interview them than the guys."

Dragona thought for a minute about what she was saying. He agreed.

"Okay, I'll set it up for you to do the interviews at the club tomorrow. Just do me a favor, though."

"What's that?" the detective asked.

"Just don't hit anyone if they give you a hard time."

Carmen smiled, stood up and started toward the door. She stopped suddenly and turned around. "Geez, a girl can't have any fun these days," she said and quickly left the office.

Dragona spent the next half-hour going through the stack of case summaries that had been left on his desk. Chief Prentiss had pitched the concept of a violent crimes' unit to the Police Commissioner on the premise the unit wouldn't be the department's dumping ground for unsolved cases, rather it would intensively work only one or two cases at a time. His thought was that among the hundreds of violent crimes committed each week in the city, there were only a few that rose to a level described as heinous, perfect fodder for the newspapers and media to splash across their headlines and breaking news stories. The daily crime summaries would be forwarded to the department's Intelligence Unit and screened for high profile cases to be referred for Dragona's review.

He read each report looking for cases that suggested serial violent criminals or especially depraved murders and assaults. When he finished his review, he felt weak. There was no shortage of violence and depravity, although the homicide rate was less than in prior years. Gang violence, drug disputes, and domestic violence crimes were occurring around the clock. After considering all the week's cases, he was comfortable with his determination the murder of Bethany Bennett was at the top of the list of public interest and media exploitation. He straightened up the pile of reports and placed them in a file cabinet. As he did, he stared at the emptiness inside the drawer, wondering how long it would be before all the drawers would be crammed with reports.

The phone rang on his desk, he pushed the file drawer closed and locked it. He glanced at the caller ID and didn't recognize the number, he answered anyway.

"Captain Dragona, this is Jerimiah Jordaine at King's Court. You said to call if we saw anything on our video. We found six men who seemed to show much interest in Bethany while she was tending bar. Three of them were here every day she worked this week. We printed out their pictures for you.

"Excellent!" Dragona said, "I can't come by today to pick up the pictures, but I can do it tomorrow. Will you be working tomorrow?"

"Ah yes, I work every day! I come here at eleven every morning."

"Okay, I'll come by at eleven. While I have you on the phone, can you transfer me to Gisella Hould?"

"Ms. Hould is not available Sir. She's attending a party this evening at Mr. King's estate in the Hamptons. She won't be back in the city until the day after tomorrow."

"Oh, then perhaps you can help me. Ms. Hould gave me a list of all the club's employees; I need to get started with interviews of everyone who knew Bethany."

For a moment there was silence on the other end of the call.

"Captain Dragona, I'm not sure I can help you without speaking with Ms. Hould first."

Dragona was surprised by Jerimiah's reluctance, but he needed to get the case moving. In the back of his mind he remembered the Hould woman's change in attitude when he mentioned he wanted to interview Quentin King.

"Jerimiah, Ms. Hould told me you were very fond of Bethany. If we're going to arrest her murderer, every minute we're delayed is giving her killer time to escape the city. I have a woman detective I can assign tomorrow afternoon to interview the club's dancers. I give you my word she'll be discrete and her work won't interfere with the club's routine business."

Again, a few moments of silence. "Captain Dragona, we're already disrupted. We've had TV and newspaper reporters here today; a TV truck did filming outside the club. This isn't good for business. And have you seen today's newspapers? They're saying Bethany was mutilated!" Jerimiah said, his voice cracking with emotion.

"Then Jerimiah, that's even more a reason for you to help me. I need your cooperation to find her killer, we can do this if we work together; for Bethany and her family."

"All right, what can I do to help you?" he asked, his voice now almost a hush.

"The detectives name is Carmen Della-Rosa. She'll come to the club tomorrow at one. She'll want to speak with the women one at a time, hopefully you have some place in the club where they can have some privacy. Will you help me with that?"

"Yes, I will do that for Bethany."

"Great. I'll have the detective ask for you when she gets there, and as I said, I'll stop by late tomorrow morning to pick up the pictures you printed for me."

"All right. I'll see you tomorrow," he said and hung up.

Dragona sat back in his office chair and stretched his back. He ran through his mind what he had said to Jerimiah, surprising himself that he had used the words discrete and Carmen in the same conversation. Despite her propensity for hands-on police work in a literal sense, he chose her for his new squad because she was a skilled investigator and had keen instincts.

A knock on the frame of his office door caused him to look up, Detectives Paul Burns and Tommy Burr came in.

"I have the search warrant application for the strip club's camera video; it's short and sweet. Do you want to check it before we head out to find a DA and a judge to issue it?" Burns asked.

"Yeah, have a seat," Dragona answered as he took the document. He read through it and found it to be brief and concise. He noted Tommy's description of what they would be seizing was easily understandable and not muddled with technical jargon.

"This is excellent guys. Okay, find a DA to help get it signed and when you're done, head home. Come in tomorrow around ten, I'll go to the club with you at eleven when they open. Tommy, bring any equipment you'll need to copy the files. Any questions?"

The two detectives had none and headed out on their assignment

Dragona went out to the squad room to tell Carmen of the arrangements he had made for her to interview the dancers. She was at her desk engrossed in studying the crime scene photos. His sudden presence at her side startled her.

"Oh! I didn't know you were there."

"What are you doing?" Dragona asked as he pulled a chair over from an adjacent desk and sat down.

"Something doesn't look right with this," she said as she looked up and leaned back in her chair.

"How so?"

"Look! From the blood stains on the kitchen counter, the walls and the floor it's obvious that's where she was grabbed and stabbed in the chest," she said as she slid the photo in front of him.

"And looking at this one, you can see the marks in the blood spilled on the floor to show she was dragged from the kitchenette into the bathroom," she added sliding a second photo in front of him."

Dragona studied the two photos for a moment and asked, "And your point is?"

"My point is, look at the photos closely. The victim was naked. There's no shoe prints from the perp, just two long smears in the blood that suggest she was dragged over to the tub. As you look at the floor from the tub back out to the bathroom entrance the smears become horizontal, not vertical from her being dragged. It's as if the perp cleaned up by wiping the floor as he backed out of the bathroom."

"Now look at this photo of the floor in the living room area. There's no blood anywhere, not even a drop. And going over to the window to the fire escape, there's no blood there either. How did the perp do that?"

Dragona spent half a minute studying the photos. "I don't know," he finally said.

"I think whoever did this was meticulous to the max," Carmen said as she gathered up the photos. "He had to be wearing some type of protective clothing. Speaking of clothing, the victim was nude. What happened to the clothes she was wearing?" she asked.

"Your right! We missed that. What did happen to her clothes?"

Carmen leaned back in her chair and ran her fingers through her long dark hair. She leaned forward and looked at him. "I'm wondering if the perp in his sick mind was playing out an operating room fantasy."

As Dragona thought about what she was saying, she continued. "It all adds up. I told you at the crime scene the incisions to cut away her face were precise, like from a scalpel. Those blades are razor sharp; they're packaged in a paper wrapper for sterility with plastic blade guards to prevent accidental cuts in handling. In the real world, the O.R. nurse handling the surgical tools tears open the wrapper and pops the plastic guard off the blade before handing it to the surgeon. Often, the wrapper and blade guard drop to the floor. In surgery, speed, precision and safety are the name of the game. Look at the photos; there's no trace of the wrapper or blade guards on the floor. This perp had to have spent a lot of time cleaning up before his getaway, right down to collecting every bit of possible evidence."

Dragona found himself staring at Carmen, he was awestruck by her deductive reasoning.

"What?" she asked, obviously aware of his stare.

"I just thought of something," Dragona said." Let me see the photo of the girl in the tub."

Carmen rustled through the stack of photos until she found what he was looking for. She slid it across the desk to him.

"What?" she asked again.

Dragona looked at the photo, finding it hard to get past the grotesque sight of the faceless corpse. He held the photo close to his eyes as he studied it.

"There doesn't look like there's any water in the tub, just blood."

"So?" Carmen asked.

"So, if your theory is correct, the blade wrapper and guard might have landed in the tub, not the floor."

"Well, they didn't find anything when they removed the body, did they?" she asked.

Dragona set the photo down on the desk. "The ME morgue attendants removed the body. They were there to remove the corpse, not look for evidence."

_" Oh, Sweet Jesus!"_ Carmen remarked as she rolled her eyes in disbelief. "Nobody bothered to look under the body? How could that have been missed? We need to go back and look in the tub."

"Yeah," Dragona agreed, silently angry with himself that he had missed something. He glanced at his watch; it was almost eight-thirty pm.

"I'm going back to the crime scene on my way home. It's late, why don't you head home and plan to meet me here at ten tomorrow morning," Dragona said as he stood up.

"No way! I'm going with you," Carmen protested. "No offense, but I know what we're looking for, you don't. Besides, I'm too wound up to sleep wondering if we missed some evidence."

Dragona was too tired to argue with her, he agreed and helped her lock up the office. They rode the elevator down to the basement parking garage in silence. Carmen's department issued undercover car, a new white Chevy Malibu, was parked four cars from Dragona's black Impala.

"I'll follow you," Carmen said as she unlocked her car and slid behind the wheel.

Dragona pulled out and picked up the FDR drive for the half-hour trip into Brooklyn, surprisingly, traffic wasn't heavy once they got out of Midtown Manhattan. He turned onto Center Street, glancing in his rearview mirror to see Carmen had managed to keep up with him. They found adjacent parking spaces two buildings before the Hudson Apartments. He stepped out of his car, locked it, and adjusted his overcoat to ensure he would have access to his service weapon. Carmen joined him as they walked up to the building entrance intercom. He saw a label that read Superintendent next to a button and pressed it. After thirty seconds there was no response. He pressed it again, this time for a longer duration.

"Who is it?" came the gruff voice on the intercom.

"Police, NYPD," Dragona spoke into the speaker. "Open up, we need to speak with you."

"Yeah right! If you're a reporter go away! I got nothin' to say to you people." the voice responded. Dragona noted the person spoke with an accent, Carmen touched his arm motioning for him to step aside. "Allow me," she politely said.

Dragona's knowledge of Spanish was less than minimal, he didn't understand a word of the rapid-fire dialogue spewing from Carmen's mouth into the intercom, but the pounding of her fist against the door as she finished made him suspect her ability to translate English obscenities into Spanish was stellar. Within seconds the sound of the lock release buzzer responded with an almost whimpering surrender to her demand for entry.

"See, you just have to speak the language people understand in Brooklyn," Carmen said as she pushed the door open with her foot and motioned for Dragona to enter ahead of her.

As they stepped into the small foyer, they saw a man's head peering around the corner of a hallway wall. "Let me see your badge," the man timidly uttered.

Carmen quickly walked down the short hallway; with each step the heels of her calf- high black boots clicked against the polished tile floor. She pulled the badge hanging on a silver chain from inside her blouse and pushed it out in front of her. Dragona stepped up his pace behind her to keep up, but she was faster. He saw her reach the corner of the wall where the man was hiding, in an instant she grabbed him by the front of his shirt and pulled him into the hallway as she knocked a wooden baseball bat from the hand he was hiding behind his back. She threw him up against the wall and jammed a knuckled fist under his chin.

"You son-of-a-bitch we told you we were the police. What were you going to do, use my head for a home run?" she screamed at the man in English.

The man was small in build, his dark features, black hair and moustache. Fear for his life was painted across his face as Carmen pressed his head against the wall.

"No! No!" the man protested in a hoarse voice. "I thought you were those reporters again. I didn't know. Stop, you're hurting me!" he pleaded.

Dragona came up next to Carmen and pulled her fist from the man's throat. "Take it easy, he's not a threat to us."

Carmen did as she was ordered, muttering something in Spanish to the man that didn't sound like an apology as she kicked the bat along the floor out of his reach. The man immediately rubbed his throat with his left hand, his color pale, sweat breaking out on his forehead.

"What do you want with me?" he asked, barely able to get the words out.

"You the superintendent?" Carmen asked. The man jerked his head back, the glare in her eyes suggested he answer quickly.

"Yes! Yes! What do you want with me?"

"We want to get into the murdered girl's apartment. Do you have the key?" she asked.

The man looked confused. He glanced at Dragona, then shifted his gaze back to Carmen.

"Yes, I have keys, but I don't know...I mean...do you have a warrant? The detective last night told me not to let anyone in the apartment after he left."

"No, we don't need a warrant," Carmen answered. "C'mon, open the door for us," she commanded as she pulled the man by the front of his shirt and pushed him toward the stairwell.

The man did as he was told, quickly climbing the stairs, mis-stepping several out of nervousness. When they reached the third-floor door into Bethany Bennett's apartment the man pulled a large key ring from his trouser pocket and nervously fumbled through the keys until he found the right one. His hand shaking, he couldn't insert the key into the lock. Carmen snatched the key ring from his hand and unlocked the door.

She turned and handed him the key ring, telling him to go back to his room, that she'd lock the door when we finished. The man didn't waste any time making a hasty retreat to the safety of his apartment.

"You ready for this?" she asked Dragona as she pushed the door open.

Dragona stepped inside, instantly he sensed the smell of death. Maybe it was the dried blood on the floor, or the fact the apartment window was shut tight, the heat inside almost stifling. He hadn't thought to bring along a mask or his trusty jar of mentholated jelly to mask the odor. He swallowed hard to settle the upset that was quickly building in his stomach as Carmen headed directly into the bathroom.

"How did you know?" Carmen called out a moment later just as he reached the bathroom doorway.

"How did I know what?"

"How did you know the perp dropped the scalpel packaging into the tub. It must have settled under her body. Have a look," she said motioning to the inside of the tub.

Dragona peered into the tub and saw the rectangular white paper wrapper. It was stained with blood, he leaned in closer and saw he could still make out some of the printed product information. Carmen stepped back and reached into her oversized shoulder bag and pulled out her cellphone, a pair of latex gloves, and after fishing around a bit, a small clear plastic baggie.

"Do you always carry evidence collection tools in your bag?" he asked.

"Yup! You never know what you're going to come across," she answered as she took a picture of the tub and a second close up of the wrapper inside. When she finished, she carefully picked up the wrapper by the edge and looked at it. "The blood's dry, I can see some of the writing but it doesn't look like English. What is this?" she asked as she held it closer to Dragona's face.

"It looks like French," he answered as he squinted and held her wrist to move it closer to his eyes. "Yeah, that's French," he concluded.

"Maybe a Canadian product?" Carmen asked as she carefully put the wrapper inside the baggie.

She reached inside her bag and found a ballpoint pen, she used it to write the date and time she took possession on the baggie. She handed it to Dragona, he took a second closer look at it." Yeah, that's French all right."

"I heard the guys say the victim was from upstate New York. Did she live close to the Canadian border?" she asked. "They speak French up there."

Dragona had to think for a moment. "She was from Elmira, that's upstate but still quite a distance from the Canadian border. Why do you ask?"

"I was just thinking if she lived near Canada maybe she had a boyfriend up there that she dumped and he came down to the City to see her and things didn't work out so he killed her."

"I think that's a stretch, but we should follow up with her family when we speak with them," he said. Carmen handed him the baggie, he put it in his overcoat pocket.

Carmen carefully searched the tub and the floor in the bathroom looking for the safety shield she had mentioned earlier. It took her a few minutes until she called out, "Ah! Here's that little sucker. It was right here up against the clawfoot by the wall." She held up the small piece of plastic for Dragona's inspection.

"So that means the perp had access to surgical equipment and he brought it with him, just as you said last night. Nice job Carmen!"

"Nice, but not good enough," she answered." This helps establish premeditated murder, but unless we can get some info off the wrapper that can be traced, we have no way of knowing where he got it from."

"Well, I'll submit it to our crime lab guys," Dragona said. "Maybe they can come up with something to help us. C'mon, it stinks in here, let's go."

They locked up the apartment and headed downstairs to the door. As they walked to their cars Dragona explained he had spoken with Jerimiah Jordaine, the lead bouncer at King's Court, and had set it up for her to interview the dancers starting at one pm. Carmen asked about Jerimiah, saying she wanted to get a feel for who she'd be dealing with.

Dragona described him as Samoan, big, handsome, well educated, and seemingly a polished young guy. He detected a slight smile on Carmen's face as he described him. As she got close to her car she stopped and turned to Dragona.

"Is Jerimiah married? Just asking for a friend."

Dragona couldn't hide his own grin. "I don't know, but I don't think so. Do me a favor though, will you?"

"What?"

"I need his help. Don't hurt him."

"Jeez, I was just asking! I promise, I won't hurt him!"

"Okay, drive safely, I'll see you tomorrow at ten," Dragona said as he got into his car and headed home.

Traffic was light on Marcy Avenue, the quickest route back to his home. He pulled into his condo building lot twenty minutes later. As he got out of his car, he saw his neighbor Misti Sommer's new Audi parked a few spaces from his car. She must be on a dry streak for dates he thought to himself as he walked to the building entrance. Inside he checked his mailbox, pulled out the end of month utility bills, a handful of junk mail, and took the elevator up to the second floor. Once inside he hung up his coat, unclipped his holstered service weapon from his belt and set it and the mail on the kitchen counter. It was a little after ten, he was tired, but his mind was restless. He fixed himself a bourbon on the rocks and settled into a recliner. He flipped through a few TV stations until he found a Knicks game; it was the fourth quarter, as was their habit of late, they were losing. He sipped his drink as he watched the game, finding his mind wandering back to trying to understand how there could be a connection between Bethany Bennett and someone who had surgical skills.

After ten minutes, the Knicks pulled it out on a late series of foul shots and won the game by two points. He drained the drink, turned off the TV, grabbed his service weapon, went into the bedroom and undressed.

As he lay in bed, he hoped his much-needed sleep would come quickly, but that wasn't meant to be. His mind kept wondering if any of King's Court patrons could be a surgeon.
**Chapter 6**

In the morning, Dragona arrived at his office at quarter to ten, Detective Paul Burns called him over to his desk and said he and Tommy Burr got the search warrant for the Kings Court video signed by a judge. Dragona explained he planned to visit the club at eleven to pick up some still photos of customers, the detectives could go with him and execute their warrant. He looked around and noticed Carmen Della-Rosa hadn't arrived yet, Detective Burns took note of Dragona's observation.

"If you're looking for Carmen, she called and said she'll be in a little before noon."

"Oh? Did she say why?" Dragona asked.

"Yeah, she said she was having her hair done this morning!" Burns answered, making no effort to hide a grin. "She must have a hot date tonight."

Dragona didn't comment, but he suspected Mr. Jerimiah Jordaine was about to become Ms. Della-Rosa's newest person of interest. He went into his office and checked emails that had come in overnight. The third message he read was disturbing, so much so he read it twice to be sure he understood it.

The email was from the NYPD Intelligence Unit reporting a social media post on a dark website they were monitoring had suggested Bethany Bennett's murder was committed by a member of a group involved in the black-market sale of harvested human organs. Dragona stared at the screen in disbelief. He saw the email was sent by a Detective Lauren Rocano and noted it listed an office phone. He dialed the number, after four rings the call went to phone mail, Dragona was surprised by the soft female voice that stated the message she was out of the office but could be reached after four pm. He left his cellphone as a contact number and a message he was calling regarding her email concerning organ harvesting and black-market trafficking.

He walked out into the squad room and saw Detectives Ricky Malone and Manny Diaz had arrived for work; he noticed they looked a bit hungover from their night of surveillance at King's Court.

"From the looks of you two I'm almost afraid to ask how you made out last night," he said to the men.

The men exchanged sheepish looks at each other and smiled.

"I have to say, it was a learning experience, Boss," Malone said.

"How so?"

"I learned I'm glad I'm not a twenty-something anymore because if I was, I'd be in jail this morning! Those girls aren't just beautiful, they're gorgeous!"

Dragona shook his head in amusement. "Okay, they're gorgeous, but are they hookers? That's what I sent you there for."

"Not from anything I saw," Manny Diaz chimed in. "They interact with the customers, a lot of bumping and rubbing but the club bouncers are always within arm's reach of the girls. I have to say, they do a hell of a job protecting the girls without acting like punks when somebody starts to get out of hand. And the head bouncer, Jerimiah? He's an intimidating person you don't want to mess with. He's calm, cool, and professional. In the three hours we were in the place we saw him and his guys remove two jackasses that started to get grabby with the girls. The bouncers tossed them, no fuss no muss, no fighting. You were right, this place is high end."

"And so's their prices, Boss," Ricky Malone added. "A short draft beer is eight-fifty. Toss the bartender a ten spot and that's the last you see it. I have to say, though, the girl tending bar was worth every penny just to look at her."

Dragona shook his head again in amusement. No fools like old fools he thought to himself.

"Okay, write up an expense report and drop it and any money you may miraculously have left over from what I advanced you on my desk."

"The damage wasn't bad, Boss. Between us with a couple sandwiches and tips we dropped about seventy-five," Malone said. The expense was less than what Dragona had thought it would be, he let the conversation drop.

"All right, what are you guys planning to work on this morning?" he asked.

Manny said they were working on tracking down the men who were listed as friends on Bethany's Facebook page and would pick up from where they left off yesterday. Dragona thought their work was an exercise in futility, but it was an avenue they needed to explore. His gut was telling him Bethany's killer was someone who had a connection with King's Court. He said that was fine and to be sure they made notes of their interviews.

He walked over to Tommy Burr's desk and saw the young new detective was typing up a case progress report from handwritten notes he had collected from the other detectives.

"Looks like the team elected you the clerk of the works, eh Tommy?"

The young man looked up from his keyboard and smiled.

"Yeah, but I don't mind, this is so interesting. It's like writing a crime mystery novel."

"Yeah, I guess you're right," Dragona said in agreement. "Do me a favor. When you get to the part of the story about who the murderer is, be sure to let me know."

"I think we're a long way from that," Tommy said, "but what strikes me is that there seems to be a lack of evidence at the crime scene."

"At the Academy they placed so much emphasis on collecting trace evidence, but in this case, there's hardly any."

His comment reminded Dragona he had forgotten about the scalpel packaging Carmen had found in the bathtub.

"It's really like putting together a jigsaw puzzle, Tommy. A piece here, a piece there, suddenly the greater picture comes into view. Just stick with it, you're doing a fine job." He patted the young man on the shoulder and headed back to his office.

He found the baggie with the packaging in is overcoat pocket and dropped it on his desktop. He sat down and examined it. The printing on the package was French and appeared to be a partial brand name, the last few letters were covered with a dried bloodstain. He dialed the crime lab office in the basement of the building and was connected to an evidence technician. He explained the wrapper, where it was found, its condition, and raised the question whether from partial information the brand could be identified and hopefully open the door to trace the product's distribution. The technician said he thought it was a longshot but agreed to look at it.

Dragona sat at his desk and filled out a seized property report and request for forensic examination form and placed the baggie into a manila envelope. He went out to the squad room and saw Manny Diaz was off the phone, he instructed him to take it downstairs to the crime lab.

He glanced at his watch and saw it was few minutes past ten-thirty. He rounded up Tommy and Paul Burns and the three men headed out to King's Court. They pulled into the club's underground garage and flashed their badges at the attendant who had a surprised look on his face when he realized three detectives were visiting the club.

"Is there a problem officer?" he asked Dragona.

"No, we have an appointment, nothing to be worried about," he reassured the man.

As Dragona pulled forward he glanced in his rearview mirror and saw the attendant was already on the phone.

The three detectives entered through the front door of the club; Jerimiah Jordaine was seated on a stool at his podium doing some paperwork.

He greeted Dragona with a firm handshake, the Captain introduced his two detectives. Paul Burns handed Jerimiah a copy of the search warrant, he studied it for a few moments with a puzzled look on his face.

"I've never been involved with something like this before," he said. "What do I have to do?"

Dragona explained he should leave a copy of the warrant on Gisella Hould's desk, and that they needed access to the video system for Tommy Burr to copy the surveillance files.

"I had Edmund our video supervisor come in early today to help you, please follow me," Jerimiah said as he motioned for the men to follow him to the security office. Once inside, Dragona introduced himself and the detectives to Edmund and explained they were there to retrieve some of the club's archived video. The man seemed nervous, he looked over at Jerimiah as if seeking approval to cooperate.

"They have a search warrant, Edmund. We must cooperate with them," Jerimiah explained as he put his hands on the man's shoulders and guided him back down into his chair in front of the console.

Without being prompted Tommy Burr asked where the system servers were located, Edmund pointed to a door a few feet to his left. Tommy walked over and opened the door, remarked "Sweet" apparently impressed by the system's sophistication.

"Is it something you can work with?" Dragona asked.

"Yeah, sure," he answered as he walked back over to the console. He asked Edmund to show him the cameras that would have monitored Bethany's activities the night she was killed, and after a few minutes of questions and answers Tommy said he needed about twenty minutes inside the server room to transfer the files. Edmund said he'd help, as he stood up, he handed Dragona a manila envelope.

"I looked at two weeks of video of Bethany at work, there were six guys who seemed to pay a lot of attention to her; three particularly who looked like they were trying to hit on her all night."

"Show me those guys." Dragona said as he removed the eight by ten color prints from the envelope. He noted each photo was date and time stamped.

Edmund pointed out the three photos, with a pen Dragona marked each with a small check mark on the reverse side. He studied the photos for a minute.

"These are from three different nights, this one guy here was at the bar each of those nights," Edmund said pointing to a white male who appeared to be in his thirties, dressed in a suit.

"Do we know who he is?" Dragona asked as he turned to Jerimiah and showed him the photo.

Jerimiah studied the photo and said he thought the man was one of their regulars, but he didn't know his name.

Tommy and Edmund went to work in the server room, Dragona, Jerimiah and Paul Burns pulled up chairs to sit and wait. Paul Burns asked to see the photos, after a minute of studying them he showed one to Jerimiah.

"This guy here, at the end of the bar; it looks like the girl just handed him a pretty thick wad of cash, doesn't it?"

Dragona saw Jerimiah's face change expression, he looked like he was clenching his teeth. "Do you know this guy?" he asked.

"Yes, that's Eton," he answered, with a tinge of contempt in his voice.

"Eton Boucher? Mr. King's boyfriend?" Dragona asked. Jerimiah nodded yes.

Dragona held the photo close to his face and studied it. It did look like Bethany was handing him a lot of cash. Something he had missed when he first looked at the photo caught his eye. A few feet behind Eton, partially obscured by his shoulder, was a woman. He brought the photo to within inches of his eyes for a closer look. He handed the photo to Jerimiah and pointed out the mystery figure.

"Is that Gisella Hould?" he asked.

Jerimiah studied the photo. "It could be," he said" but I'm not sure."

"Can we bring this section of video up on a monitor and enlarge it?" Dragona asked.

Jerimiah called out for Edmund, when he came out of the server room, he showed him the photo and asked him to bring the video up on a screen. Edmund looked back toward the server room before he answered.

"I can't do that until the detective is finished with the file transfer."

"Okay," Dragona said. "Let Tommy finish what he's doing, but before we leave, I want to see that video stream enlarged." Edmund said he understood and went back into the server room. Paul Burns looked over at Dragona and nodded to signal he understood what Dragona was thinking.

A few minutes later Tommy came into the room carrying a laptop.

"I'm all set. I tested it and found I can retrieve the video, no problem" he said.

Without being asked Edmund picked up the photo with Eton Boucher in it and within a minute he brought the video up on a large screen monitor. He slowly advanced the frames until he found a clear image of the woman standing behind him

"Stop right there!" Dragona commanded. "Okay, that's what I want to see enlarged."

Edmund tapped the keyboard a few times enlarging the image. He clicked the mouse to form a box around the image of the woman and enlarged it. When he finished, even with some slight distortion, it was clear the woman was Gisella, and the scowl on her face showed she seemed upset."

"Can you print that enlarged image for me?" Dragona asked Edmund.

Without comment he sent the image to a printer, a minute later he handed the photo to Dragona. "Is there anything else you need?" he asked.

Dragona looked at Tommy, he shook his head to indicate he was all set. Dragona thanked Edmund for his help and cautioned him not to speak to anyone about the search warrant as that might interfere with an ongoing murder investigation. It must have been the word murder that frightened Edmund, upon hearing it his face went pale. He weakly said he understood and wouldn't tell anyone.

Dragona thanked Jerimiah for his help as he escorted the men out.

The detectives returned to their office where Tommy Burr set up his laptop to display the files he had downloaded. They viewed the video from the last shift before Bethany was killed, Dragona noted the bar was crowded when she took over from the lunchtime bartender, he was especially interested with how she interacted with the customers. After a few minutes he realized she seemed to be social, but not overly flirtatious. It was obvious from watching the men she was serving her every move seemed to have their undivided attention. The detectives watched in silence, after a few minutes Paul Burns spoke.

"Man, she was a beautiful girl, look at that face; absolutely exquisite. How could anybody mutilate her like they did?"

"Tommy! Freeze it right there!" Dragona called out, the detective paused the video.

"Manny, that guy, third from the right at the bar; doesn't he look like one of the guys from the ME's office that picked up the girl's body the other night?"

Detective Diaz stood up and walked closer to the monitor. "You're right! It sure as hell looks like him. If it's not, this guy could be his twin brother."

"We've got to find out who he is," Dragona said. "Tommy, can you print out that frame for me?"

"Yes," he answered as he tapped the laptop keyboard.

"Okay, play the video forward," Dragona said.

As the men watched the bar activity there was nothing to indicate any of the customers had physically acted out of line with Bethany. Just as Dragona was going to tell Tommy Burr to shut down the video something caught his eye. "Tommy! Freeze it right there!"

"What do you see, Boss?" Manny Diaz asked.

"Paul, where's the picture of King's boyfriend Eton what's-his-name?"

Detective Burns took the photo out of his portfolio binder and handed it to Dragona. He studied it for a few seconds and then looked up at the video frame frozen on the monitor. Something didn't look right to him.

It was Eton Boucher next to the man who resembled the ME assistant.

"What the hell's going on here? "Dragona said, "The boyfriend looks like he's discretely handing an envelope to the M.E. guy. Tommy, can you back the video up a few frames and play it again?"

The young detective did as he was instructed and replayed the video in slow motion. At the point Eton has handed the first man the envelope, Dragona called out for Tommy to freeze the frame.

"That first guy's checking what's in the envelope. Tommy, can you zoom in on that? he asked.

"What do you think? Drugs?" Many Diaz asked as he walked closer to the monitor.

"No, I don't think so, not in an envelope," Dragona said as he also moved closer to the monitor. Tommy Burr pressed some keys on his laptop and zoomed in on the man's hands.

"Look! He's checking the contents. That's money he's looking at," Manny said.

Dragona noticed the same thing. "Yeah, but money for what? Did you guys see him first give the boyfriend anything ?"

Without being asked Tommy printed the still frame of the man checking the envelope, he then re-set the playback to display the transaction from the start. He re-played the video twice, the detectives strained their eyes to what might have prompted the transaction, but there was nothing unusual.

"What do you think, Boss?" Detective Burns asked with a look of confusion on his face.

"It looks like a payoff," Dragona answered, "but for what?"

The detectives sat in silence. As they did, the squad room door opened and Carmen Della-Rosa entered. She glanced up at the monitor that was now displaying Bethany Bennett working behind the bar.

"You guy's watching porn again?" she asked.

The men looked over at her, stunned by her appearance.

"No porn in here until you walked in, Chiquita!" Paul Burns quipped, his remark backed up by a few wolf-whistles from the squad.

Carmen muttered something in Spanish that Dragona suspected wasn't a thank you.

She was dressed as if she could be the next dancer on the club's stage. Her outfit was a skin-tight black mini-skirt, spike heels and low-cut beige blouse that barely was containing her ample breasts. She was wearing her dark brunette hair long, the curls on the side danced on her shoulders as she walked to her desk and set her shoulder bag down. Even with all the flesh her outfit was showing it was her long shapely legs that most caught the men's attention.

Dragona couldn't help but notice young Tommy Burr was staring at her, his mouth open, his cheeks had a rosy tint giving away the embarrassment he was obviously trying to hide. Tommy realized he was being watched and quickly turned his head from the woman, his face now fully flush from his embarrassment.

"What's all this?" Dragona asked as he motioned at her outfit.

"I thought I would get into character," she answered. "If I'm going to be interviewing strippers, I thought I could relate better to them if I looked like one."

"These girls aren't strippers, Carmen, they're dancers," Dragona corrected her.

"Well..., I think the jury's still out on that one until I interview them," Carmen said as she glanced at her watch. She grabbed her shoulder bag, turned to Dragona and asked, "What's the name of the bouncer guy I'm supposed to hook up with? I mean......, what's the big guy's name at this club?"

Dragona rolled his eyes." His name is Jerimiah."

"Okay, Jerimiah. Well, I'm off to see the Wizard!" she said as she clicked her heels and turned toward the door.

"Carmen, wait a minute!" Dragona called out. He looked over at Manny Diaz. "Manny, drive Carmen over to the club and drop her off out front. I don't want her walking around downtown looking like that. I'm afraid she'll get picked up for soliciting."

"Hey! Easy with that, Big Fella!" Carmen shot back.

"No! Seriously; let Manny drive you. When you're finished call the office and we'll come and get you."

Carmen shrugged her shoulders in resignation. "C'mon Lover, let's go," she said to Manny who jumped to his feet at her invitation.

As they started toward the door, Dragona called out to her; "And remember our agreement; no fighting!" For once, Carmen didn't have a comeback.
**Chapter 7**

The detectives sat around the conference table and discussed what they had seen on the club video. "We need to make an ID on the guy I think works for the ME's office. Any ideas?" Dragona asked.

"I wouldn't run the risk of showing the picture to the ME's staff; if it's him, they might tip him off we're looking at him," Det. Matt Costa said.

'Yeah, I agree," Paul Burns chimed in. "How about we go down to One Police Plaza and speak with Personnel? They should have a database of all the ME's employees, and if we're lucky, they have their photo IDs on file."

Dragona agreed. NYPD's personnel offices were located at One Police Plaza, it might require the detectives to do a little sweet talking for them to get a look at their files, but it was worth a shot. He assigned Costa and Burns to the task.

"Tommy, we need to find anything we can on this Eton what's-his-name," Dragona said as he turned to Tommy Burr.

"Eton Boucher," the young detective said. "Yeah, I can check some on-line databases," he said.

"Okay, also, I need you to do a workup on the club owner, Quentin King. He's a famous producer, there should be a ton of articles online. I'm interested in anything you can find out about his personal life, not so much his theatrical career. See if you can dig up anything on properties he owns, lawsuits, social media, who he pals around with. From what I've heard, he's well connected with politicians and business leaders. See what you can come up with."

Tommy got up and started toward his desk.

"Hey! Wait a minute. While you're at it see what you can find on a Gisella Hould. She's the manager at King's Court," Dragona added.

Tommy acknowledged the added request and sat down at his computer.

Dragona went into his office and brought up the week's violent crimes' report summaries on his computer. New York City has long held the title as society's melting pot, most of the twenty million souls of mixed races and cultures generally manage to get through the day to day challenges of peaceful co-existence, but there's always been the fringe extremists whose horrific actions shock the masses. Within a few minutes of scanning the reports, Dragona realized yesterday was no exception to that aberration. Gang violence, drug-fueled rage, domestic violence and mental impairment continued to be the tools of mayhem and murder

One case caught his attention; a dismembered woman's body found stuffed inside a large suitcase left on the sidewalk in the Bronx. He noted the case originated from the 40th Precinct and decided to call the investigating detective to see if there was a possible connection to Bethany Bennett's murder.

As he was looking up the Precinct phone extension his desk phone rang, he saw the screen indicated the call was from the Desk Officer in the lobby. He answered and learned Bethany's family was downstairs wanting to speak with the officer in charge of her murder investigation.

Dragona said he would be down to meet with them in five minutes, the officer responded for privacy, he had directed the family to a small conference room on the first floor.

Dragona rode alone in the elevator to the first floor, the silence gave him a few moments to gather his thoughts. It was never easy to face a family whose loved one's life was cut short by violence; it was worse when the victim was savagely murdered. The shock and horror the families suffered privately, now exploited by the media's incessant coverage, fueled their pain. Dragona knew Bethany's family wanted answers from him, something he wouldn't be able to give them today.

He stepped out of the elevator on the first floor, the lobby was busy with the routine business of a neighborhood precinct house.

The Desk Sergeant Johnny Costello was an old-timer, his days of pounding a foot beat long behind him, now relegated to a desk screening complaints of noisy neighbors, parking tickets, and cars towed to the impound lot. The Sergeant looked across the lobby to acknowledge Dragona and pointed to a conference room to his left. Dragona looked over and was surprised to see a priest standing outside the door. He walked over to the man.

"Are you Captain Dragona?" the man asked.

"I am, and you are?"

"I'm Reverend Martin Roberts, Sandra Bennett's fiance. Bethany was her sister," the man answered as he offered his hand in greeting.

"I'm Episcopalian," he quickly added with a smile, "the clerical collar often confuses people."

"Oh! How is the family holding up?"

The Reverend looked down at the floor for a moment. "Bethany's mother is absolutely devastated; she cried most of the drive down here. She has so many questions," he said as his voice trailed off.

Dragona took a deep breath. "You need to understand we're still very early into the investigation; we're waiting for some evidence examination results, still interviewing Bethany's friends and co-workers. I'm afraid I don't have the answers the family is looking for."

"I understand," the Reverend said. "At the least, Beth's mother will be able to see the face of the person who's investigating. She read a newspaper article about you and made the comment that you seemed like a man she could trust. Please don't let her down."

The men went into the conference room, Dragona introduced himself to the two women. It instantly struck him where Bethany's beauty came from. Her mother was probably in her early fifties he guessed; high cheekbones, short neatly trimmed blond hair. Her sunken eyes, reddened from crying was her only flaw. She sat quietly; her tightly folded hands clutched a small prayer book. Bethany's sister Sandra was a beauty in her own right. She was smartly dressed in a black pantsuit, her long dark hair resting on her shoulders. Dragona expressed his condolences for their loss and took a seat at the head of the small conference table; the Reverend pulled over a chair and sat next to Bethany's mother, his arm around her shoulders.

Dragona explained he had four detectives working on the case and the process of interviews and evidence examination. He was deliberately vague, a tact that didn't go unnoticed.

"So, what you're saying is that you don't know who killed my sister," Sandra Bennett said, her voice tinged with obvious dissatisfaction with what she was being told.

Dragona hesitated for a moment, he didn't want to sound dismissive, yet he needed the family to realize it had only been two days since the murder. He decided to ignore the jab at the perceived lack of progress,

"What can you tell me about Bethany?" he asked. "I understand she came to the city to finish her schooling."

Bethany's mother Amber spoke for the first time, her voice soft, her speech slow yet deliberate. She explained Beth's dream was to become a CPA. She had attended a small community college in Elmira but had decided to finish her degree at NYU on the thought a degree from there would look better on her resume. When she explained she had found employment at King's Court they were shocked and concerned, as their online research found it was a strip club.

She said Bethany insisted they were wrong, that despite being a sex-oriented place it was high-class. Bethany said her salary was seven hundred dollars a week, she kept all her tips, and her employer provided a place for her to live and offered tuition reimbursement.

An added benefit for her was the opportunity for training on the financial management side of the business, something she thought would be beneficial to her in the future.

Amber talked about Bethany's personal life at home. Dragona learned she had a few boyfriends growing up but that she had purposely avoided any long-term commitments that would interfere with her pursuit of her degree. Her father had died suddenly of a heart attack in her junior year of high school, something that shattered her emotionally. In the end, her decision to move to New York City was viewed as a good thing, a new start, as her mother put it.

Dragona asked if Bethany had mentioned any men she had met or dated recently. Sandra Bennett said she and her sister talked on the phone several times a week and Beth never mentioned dating, her life was consumed with school and work.

Reverend Roberts asked about the process for releasing Bethany's body from the medical examiner, Dragona said he would personally call the ME office if the family would provide him with their contact information.

"A lawyer contacted Amber by phone yesterday afternoon," the Reverend interjected. "He said her employer has offered to pay for all Bethany's burial expenses, but we're not sure what to do next."

Dragona suggested the family contact a funeral home in Elmira and provide them with the lawyer's contact information. His thought was they would make the arrangements to transport her remains home. As he spoke, he saw tears start to form in Amber Bennett's eyes.

"Mrs. Bennett, it's obvious your daughter was deeply loved by you and Sandra. I give you my word that we will not rest until we find the person who caused her death," Dragona said. Amber didn't respond, she just nodded her head in understanding.

Dragona saw the opportunity to make his exit, he stood and walked over to Amber, taking her hand in his and again expressing his condolences. He similarly said goodbye to Sandra and the Reverend. The look on Sandra's face said it all; she wasn't pleased he had no answer to their question who killed Bethany?
**Chapter 8**

Dragona walked into his office and saw Tommy Burr was at his computer, his desk phone cradled on his shoulder as he was typing on the keyboard. He was the only one in the office, the other detectives were out working their assignments. Dragona went onto his office, sat down and read through the investigation reports his team had submitted documenting the case progress.

He was satisfied the crime scene was well documented, they had leads to flesh out a portrait of Bethany's life through interviews of her co-workers and neighbors, but until those tasks were completed, he hadn't a clue who would want her dead or more importantly, why. His concentration was broken when Tommy appeared in the office doorway.

"Got a minute, Captain?" The young detective asked.

"Sure, c'mon in, sit." he answered motioning to the chairs in front of his desk. "What's up?"

"I've been working on building profiles of Eton Boucher and Quentin King like you instructed me, there's plenty of information on Mr. King, but something doesn't look right about Mr. Boucher."

"What do you mean, it doesn't look right about Boucher?"

"Well, I read the notes you put in the case file; you wrote that you interviewed a Mrs. Hould and she reported Mr. Boucher was French and that Mr. King met him in France and brought him to the US three years ago."

"That's correct. And your point is?"

"I was able to access online the databases of the Federal Citizenship and Immigration Services and learned there's no record of an Eton Boucher ever applying for a work permit or for that matter any other visa that would allow him to remain in the country for more than ninety days."

Dragona wasn't sure where Tommy was going with this, admittedly, he wasn't knowledgeable of immigration law but this was a murder case, not an illegal immigration matter.

"So, what's the point here, Tommy?"

"Well, when I saw that, I looked further into Mr. King. He owns a private business class jet. I found the registration number and ran it, the ownership matched Mr. King at his address in the Hamptons."

"Okay, so Quentin King is a multi-millionaire and has his own jet. What does that have to do with Bethany Bennett's murder?" Dragona asked, thinking that Tommy had spent his time on a wild goose chase.

"I know it sounds confusing but I found that Mr. King's jet has made many trips to Paris, it seems they happen every three or four months."

"Tommy, I appreciate all the work you're doing but I still don't see how this is relevant to our case."

"I didn't think so either, Captain; but it started me thinking, how could Mr. Boucher stay in this country without a visa, so I concentrated on doing background research on him."

"And?"

"And, I came across a newspaper article about a Doctor Antoine Dupuis who runs a cosmetic surgery and health spa in Paris. He's very famous for his list of patients who are reportedly among the world's most famous celebrities and wealthy businesspeople."

"Tommy, I still don't get where you're going with this," Dragona said with exasperation in his voice.

"That's when I saw a news article with a picture of Dr. Dupuis at a press conference two months ago. Standing next to him was a man the article identified as one of his staff, Eton Boucher," Tommy continued.

_" What?"_ Dragona exclaimed in disbelief.

"I know! I thought it was incredible too! I even read the caption a few times to make sure I was reading it right. I compared the picture in the article with a printout from the surveillance cameras you got from the bar and it's definitely the same man in both pictures."

"Tommy, do you realize what you've come up with? We believe Bethany's killer had to have surgical skills to cut her face off like he did, and now you're telling me Eton Boucher works with a plastic surgeon? This is incredible work, Tommy. Thank You!"

"Well, I'm just doing my job," the detective said, his embarrassment from being praised becoming evident with the blush growing in his cheeks.

"Do you want to know what Dr. Dupuis' press conference was about?" he asked. "He was discussing a medical first at his clinic; the patient was an Iraqi teenaged girl who was disfigured in a bombing raid during the Middle East war, he did reconstructive surgery on her face as a charity case."

Dragona's heart was racing. "You can't be serious Tommy."

"I am Sir, I printed out the article I found. Does this mean you have enough to arrest Boucher for the murder?"

Dragona kept a stone-faced look. In his mind he knew this was a huge breakthrough in the case, but at this point it was all circumstantial. Boucher's connection to a plastic surgeon could fit in with the anonymous dark web posting about trafficking in human organs, but to link that to Boucher they would need to come up with some way to prove he was at Bethany Bennett's apartment the night of the murder.

"Okay, Tommy, this is great. I saw you working on something when I came in, you looked pretty intense."

"Yeah, I'm following up on an idea, it may be a longshot, though."

"Well, run it by me," Dragona said as he folded his hands and rested them on his desk.

"I was on the phone with a friend, he was my roommate at RIT. He works for the FAA now and is based in Albany. I called him about how I could get flight information for Mr. King's jet, you know, where it went on trips. He directed me to a tracking database and I found the flight history I want to look at."

"You mentioned something about flights to Paris every few months, is that what you found?"

"Yeah, but what I didn't realize was there's a database of flight manifests that list passengers and cargo. I want to see if Mister Boucher was on any of those flights."

"That doesn't seem like a longshot to me, in fact, that could be a critical part of our case. And by the way, you keep saying Mr. Boucher. It's okay to call him by his last name. The more time you spend on this squad I'm sure you'll come up with a lot of different names for our people of interest, not all of them nice, but at this point it's okay to call him Boucher!"

"Oh! I'm sorry. I guess I'm still a little nervous about working here. All your detectives are experienced, I'm just a computer geek," Tommy said as he looked down at the desktop.

Dragona leaned forward and looked Tommy square in the eyes.

"Hey! Listen! Yeah; the other detectives are all streetwise, hardened cops. They've earned their reputations by pounding the pavement and putting pressure on their informants to develop leads. What you bring to the table for us is the ability to use the internet to develop information, and what you've just done proves my point. We need your expertise Tommy; don't sell yourself short. You're not just a computer geek, you just proved to me you've got detective instincts. Keep up the good work and keep me posted."

Tommy Burr thanked his boss, stood up and headed back to his computer. Dragona looked up and saw detectives Costa and Burns come into the squad room after their visit to the department personnel office.

"How did you guys make out?" he asked as he walked across the room to Costa's desk.

Costa looked over at his partner before he spoke. "You're gonna love this," he said as he dropped a photocopy of an ID badge on his desk.

"The guy in the picture at the bar getting the envelope from Boucher matches a guy who moonlights for the Coroner's office. His name is Mark Brock, he's a licensed undertaker and works part-time with the meat wagon crew collecting stiffs for autopsies."

"What do you mean moonlights?" Dragona asked as he pulled up a chair and sat down.

"He's not NYPD, he's a part-time contracted City employee. The girl at the personnel office told us the Coroner uses per diem employees to supplement his staffing, primarily on the night shift. You know, budget cuts to his fulltime staff. He can't hire anyone the City would have to provide with a benefits' package so he uses part-timers. She said most of these guys work for funeral homes in their day jobs."

Dragona reached over and picked up the photocopy.

"So. this guy, Brock, could have been on the crew that removed Bethany's body from her apartment? How can we find out for sure?" he asked.

Detective Paul Burns was quick to answer.

"We don't want to run the risk of asking the ME's office, that might tip off Brock that we're looking at him, but I had a case about six months ago when I was looking for witnesses to a stabbing murder. I remember when I got the autopsy report from the ME it had the names of the attendants who picked up the body. We need to get our hands on the autopsy report."

Dragona mentioned he thought he had seen a memo that autopsy reports could now be accessed departmentally online as part of a program to streamline the Coroner's office process. Det. Burns said he would give that shot and logged into his computer.

Sgt. Manny Diaz and Ricky Malone came into the office, Ricky tossed his pork pie felt hat on top of a file cabinet and plopped down into his office chair.

"How did you guys make out?" Dragona asked the men whom he had assigned to re-canvas Bethany Bennet's neighbors at the Hudson apartments and neighboring buildings.

"Nothing that helps us put a name to the perp," Manny said" But we did find something that might help."

Dragona didn't respond as he waited for Manny to drop the other shoe of his comment.

"Well, Popeye Doyle over here," he said as he pointed to Ricky's hat, "decided he was going to recreate the perp entering the victim's apartment through the fire escape window and damn near killed himself when the wind blew his hat off and he reached to grab it before it fell to the ground."

"Hey!" Malone protested. "That hat cost me two hundred bucks!"

Dragona bit his lip. He had picked Malone for the squad because he was known throughout the Department of his penchant for pursuing suspects doggedly, especially when it came to shadowing suspects on the city streets. True to the character of his idol Det. Popeye Doyle in the movie The French Connection, and his tastes in work attire that would make Theo Kojak envious of his fashion sense, Ricky was a risk taker.

"Yeah, but I found something the crime scene guys missed," he said as he reached into his suitcoat pocket and pulled out a clear zip lock bag and tossed it on the desk. Dragona picked it up and examined it, finding it contained a white vinyl exam glove.

"It was two flights down from the victim's window hooked onto the handrail of the fire escape," Malone explained. "You wouldn't see it at night, and you can't handle it right now to examine it, but it's torn. I think the perp snagged it when he slid his hand along the railing. There's no blood on it from what I could see, so it could be the perp had it on before he made entry."

"Or he had two pairs of gloves on when he killed the girl and removed the bloody one and snagged this one," Manny Diaz interjected.

"I don't think so," Malone protested. "If he did handle a bloody glove there should be a blood transfer on this one. I don't see that."

Differing opinions aside, Dragona had one thought: DNA

Dragona spoke up. "Okay, regardless of whether there was one or two pair, this glove just didn't magically appear on the fire escape. Ricky, write up a possessed property chain of custody and get this down to the crime lab for DNA analysis. Specify that we want the inside of the glove swabbed."

"I'm on it, Boss," the detective responded as he logged into his desktop computer.

Dragona went back into his office and sat down. He could feel his adrenalin flowing after the discovery Tommy Burr had made about Eton Boucher and now the chance to have some DNA evidence left by the killer. As he sat there a thought popped into his head; was there any chance the fire escape glove could have been discarded by any of the crime scene techs? Surely, they must have examined Bethany's window leading to the fire escape, most probably by climbing through the window and examining it from the outside. He realized he had to call the crime scene Commander, Lieutenant Ramon Consuelo.

Dragona dialed the Lieutenant's office phone, he wasn't available so he left a detailed message explaining the finding of a glove and the question of how it got there. He stressed he needed a response as soon as possible.

He glanced at his watch; it was quarter past five and they had heard nothing from Carmen Della-Rosa since she left to interview the dancers at King's Court. He was tempted to call her but decided against it; Carmen knew what she was doing he thought to himself. A few minutes later Ricky Malone knocked on his office door and came in.

"Boss, I submitted the glove to the lab like you said but the tech who signed for it told me there's weeks of a backlog for DNA tests. I told him what case it was from, but he acted as if that didn't make a difference. What do you want to do?"

"That's bullshit," Dragona answered in frustration. "I'll make a phone call."

Dragona picked up the phone and dialed the number. After three rings it was answered.

"Chief Prentiss," came the response on the other end.
**Chapter 9**

Milano's Restaurant on Grand Street was just starting to fill up with the early evening dinner crowd when Dragona arrived. Although he didn't dine there regularly, he was warmly greeted by the owner and shown to a small two-person booth in a quiet corner. He hadn't eaten much during the past forty-eight hours, he had it in his mind a chicken parmigiana dinner would tastefully fill the void in his stomach.

"Captain, it's been a while since we've seen you. I see in the papers you're a very busy man of late," Mr. Milano said as he placed a menu on the table.

Dragona acknowledged the comment but didn't elaborate. He had hoped the restaurant would afford him the privacy he'd enjoyed on previous visits. Thankfully, the host didn't pursue the conversation

When he had left the squad room for dinner, his detectives were heading home except for Sergeant Manny Diaz, who said he was staying late to write up his case progress report. They still hadn't heard from Carmen Della-Rosa that she had finished her interviews of the dancers at King's Court. Manny had said if she didn't call by the time he left the office, he would go the club and wait for her to complete her work.

The waitress came to his table to take his order, he couldn't help but notice she was a pretty young woman with long dark hair. She looked to be in her early twenties, smartly dressed in black slacks and a crisply starched white blouse.

"Good evening, are you ready to order, Sir?" the girl asked, with a pleasant smile.

He ordered the chicken dinner, a side of spaghetti, a small salad and a glass of the house merlot. As the waitress leaned over to take the menu and submit his order, he caught a whiff of her perfume; it had the scent of vanilla! Odd, he thought, as was the name on the small black pin on her blouse; 'Cat'.

As he waited for his meal a call came in on his cellphone. He looked at the caller ID and saw it was Chief Prentiss.

"Danny, I spoke with the ME personally and made it clear to him that we needed the DNA exam on the glove you submitted done immediately."

"Is he going to help us?" Dragona asked.

"Bottom line, yes. He whined about being overworked, understaffed, the Mayor's budget cuts, but in the end, he said the night shift will do the exam. With any luck they'll collect some DNA and start running it through the City's database."

"Thanks, Chief. I really appreciate your help," Dragona said, keeping his voice low so as not to be overheard by the nearby diners.

"That's what I'm here for. While I have you on the phone, the Chief of Detectives and I are meeting with the PC tomorrow, I know this case will be the first the Commissioner has on his agenda; the papers are killing us for updates. They want an arrest. I'll call you around noon tomorrow for a status update," the Chief said.

Dragona thanked him again and ended the call just as Cat the waitress delivered his wine and salad. After she placed them on the table, she stood there looking at him.

"Something wrong?" Dragona asked as he unfolded his cloth napkin.

"No, just that Mr. Milano told me to treat you as a VIP guest. I was wondering if you're the man the other girls are saying is The Dragon?"

Dragona managed a weak smile. "Growing up, my mother called me Danny, but yeah, the papers call me Dragon. You should be used to people playing with your name."

"Excuse me?" she asked, a look of confusion on her face.

"Your name! 'Cat!' he said pointing at her name tag.

"Oh that!" she said with a giggle." That's short for Caterina. I'm Italian. I was named after my grandmother, my father's mother."

"Well, that's a beautiful name," Dragona said extending his hand. "Just between you and me, I'm Danny Dragona."

"Danny, it's nice to meet you," she said." But I have to ask; are you the one investigating the murder of that girl in Brooklyn that's in all the papers?"

"Yeah," Dragona said with a sigh. "I'm in charge of the detective squad that's working that case."

"I knew her," Cat said, a remark that took Dragona aback. "I mean I didn't really know her, but we both go to NYU and one day a few weeks ago we shared a table in the dining hall at lunch. She was a beautiful girl."

"Yeah, so I saw from some pictures of her," he said.

"And she was really nice; I mean, not stuck up or anything, All the guys in our economics class were drooling over her."

"Oh? Anyone in particular hitting on her?"

Cat laughed, "A lot of the guys were trying, but she wasn't interested. She was sweet about it though, you know; she didn't just shoot them down or anything, she would tell them she was concentrating on her studies and wasn't into dating right now."

Dragona wasn't surprised; that's what her sister had said about her.

"The guys heard that she worked at a strip club and thought she was easy. She told me she worked at a gentlemen's club as a bartender. Is that true?" she asked.

"Yeah, an upscale club in Manhattan, she wasn't a dancer, she was a bartender," Dragona answered.

Before Dragona could press the girl for more information, they both heard the frantic dinging of a bell from the kitchen service counter.

"Uh oh! That's for me, probably your meal is ready. I'm sorry, I'm talking when I should be working," she said as she scurried up to the front of the restaurant.

Dragona took a sip of his wine. It wasn't his drink of preference, but he thought it was exceptional for a house offering. He found himself staring at his salad. Cat's comment about the guys at NYU hitting on Bethany was something he hadn't thought about. He had it in his mind that her killer was related to her work at King's Court, but now realized her school life was something that needed to be investigated.

His train of thought was interrupted when Cat delivered his meal. She set his plates down in front of him with the comment, "Enjoy," before she walked away. He watched her as she made her way to the front of the restaurant, stopping along the way to check on her other customers. He tried not to stare but found himself impressed by her trim figure. She could easily fit in at King's Court he thought to himself.

Dragona dug into his meal, after just a few mouthfuls he realized he was hungrier than he thought. It was delicious, the portion was not overwhelming as many nouveau Italian eateries served, the pasta sauce had a perfect blend of garlic and basil, the melted cheese topping neatly sealed in the chicken's moistness. As he ate, he occasionally glanced up and noticed an older man seated several booths away was staring at him He chalked it up to his recent notoriety in the newspapers and focused his attention on the culinary masterpiece on front of him.

As he finished his meal and drained the last of his wine, Cat appeared at his table and set down a fresh glass of merlot. "Compliments of the older gentleman over there," she said as she turned and nodded toward the older man who had been staring at him. Dragona looked over and saw the man smile, as he looked at him, he was at a loss to put a name to the face. He nodded his thanks as he raised the glass to the man as Cat cleared the now empty plates from the table.

"Can I get you any desert?" she asked. "We have some yummy fresh cannoli's and Italian pastries today, or perhaps coffee?"

Dragona politely declined both desert and the coffee she offered. She thanked him and said she would bring his check in a few minutes.

As he sipped his wine, he discretely glanced several times at the man who had gifted it but searching deep into his memory he couldn't come up with a name. The man was sitting across from what appeared to be a well-dressed younger man, though all Dragona could see was the back of the man's head.

As he slowly sipped the wine, he saw the older man slowly rise, take a cane to steady himself and walk toward his table. As the man drew closer Dragona sensed he was a face from the past but a name still escaped him.

The man reached his table and stood before him. Dragona noticed the large diamond pinkie ring on his left hand; it instantly struck him he had seen it before, but where, he wondered?

"It's been a long time, Detective," the man said in a gravelly low voice. "You don't remember me?"

"I'm sorry, your name escapes me," Dragona said.

The man rested his hand on the vacant chair across from Dragona, "May I?" he asked as he slowly pulled the chair away from the table's edge.

"Of course, please," Dragona answered as he motioned for the man to sit. The man slowly settled into the chair.

"Giovanni Portovano," the man said as he introduced himself.

Instantly it struck Dragona he knew the man, though now he was just a shell of the once powerful Mafia consiglieri he had arrested years earlier when he was a rookie detective assigned to the NYPD Organized Crime Task Force.

"I see the look on your face tells me of your shock. I'm old now, and sick. I have the cancer," he said as he touched his abdomen. "Prostate, lung; I'm dying."

Dragona could see the sadness in the old man's eyes. "I'm sorry to hear that," he said.

"We all die," the man said. "Every day I have now is a gift. You treated me with respect many years ago when we first met. You worked with some punks back then who used their badges to abuse me and my associates in the back rooms of their precinct houses. And they said we were the criminals! But you weren't like that, and I never forgot that."

Dragona nodded his thanks but remained silent. The old man slowly turned and looked back toward his table.

"That's my grandson," he said." He's a good boy, he's almost finished with law school, he wants to work for the DA's office. Who would have thought my grandson would be a DA!" he said with a smile as he shook his head." He brings me here every Wednesday night for dinner, takes me to my doctor's appointments and drives me down to my Florida home for the winter."

"You're a lucky man to have him," Dragona said, though in the back of his mind he was wondering what the man's point was with this seemingly social conversation.

"I owe you, Detective. I read in the paper you're in charge of the case where the girl from that club was murdered. Is that right?"

"Yeah, it's my squad that has the case."

"I've been to that club a few times this year, I've seen the girl. She was a beauty," Giovanni said.

His remark surprised Dragona. The man seemed so frail and couldn't walk without his cane yet he still managed to drop in on a gentlemen's club?"

"You know Quentin King?" Giovanni asked.

"No, I'm hoping to meet with him this week. Do you know him?"

"We've met," Giovanni said, "but he's no friend."

"I don't follow you", Dragona said as he leaned back in his chair.

"He's a fool; he's being played by his so-called boyfriend."

"You mean Eton Boucher?" Dragona asked.

"I don't know his name; Pretty Boy I call him. He's scum. He has some bad habits,"

"Bad habits? I'm not following you."

'The casinos, broads. He's scum!" Giovanni said with a tone of contempt.

"Broads?" Dragona asked for clarification." He's gay, isn't he?"

"Gay?" Giovanni said loudly with a laugh. "Believe that and I'll tell you I know where Hoffa is buried! C'mon, you're smarter than that. King is a generous man; this kid is making a fool of him."

"Mr. Portovano the few people I've spoken with at King's Court have told me that King is gay, that Boucher is his life partner," Dragona protested. "Are you saying that's not true?"

"I'm saying yeah, King wears the panties in that family, but Pretty Boy is a fraud. He's running up some heavy debt at the casino tables. The word on the street is he's helping himself to cash from King's club to keep the heat off his losses and keep in good standing with his whore girlfriends."

Giovanni's statement was a shock. The thought flashed in his mind something he had seen in the King's Court video; Bethany Bennett handing Boucher what looked like cash from the register while Gisella Houle watched with a scowl on her face.

Dragona quickly thought what to say next. Eton Bucher was becoming more than a person of interest, but there wasn't any evidence to link him to Bethany's apartment the night of the murder.

"Mr. Portovano, is there any word on the street who did the girl?" he asked.

"Not that I've heard. I still have a few contacts, but most of my, uh, business associates have either passed or are in nursing homes. Like I said, I owe you one," Giovanni said. "The new crew keep in touch with me from time to time for advice on, uh, business matters. I said I owe you and I mean that. If I hear anything, I'll get the word to you."

Giovanni reached for his cane and slowly rose from the chair. He leaned over and offered his hand. "Watch your back, Detective," he said in a soft voice. He looked over to where his grandson was sitting.

Dragona saw the young man and Cat the waitress seemed to be enjoying a friendly conversation. From Cat's posture up close to the grandson's arm Dragona suspected there was an attraction between the two. Giovanni's rising to his feet caught Cat's attention, she tapped the grandson's shoulder, he turned and saw his grandfather was ready to leave. He stood up, gave Cat a hug and walked over to assist his grandfather. Dragona noticed he was clean cut, well dressed and seemed genuinely attentive to his grandfather's infirm condition.

Dragona watched the men leave, in his mind he realized Giovanni Portovano was figuratively and literally a dying breed.

Cat returned with his check. "You can leave it on the table or you can pay up front," she said. "It was nice meeting you I hope you can find whoever killed Bethany. I'm here every Wednesday, Thursday and Friday nights. I hope to see you again."

"I'll make a point of visiting again," Dragona said. "Thank You!"

He looked at the check, left the cash and a nice tip on the table and headed out for home and a good night's sleep.
**Chapter 10**

At eight AM the next morning Dragona walked into the squad room and found all his detectives sitting at the conference table having coffee.

"Good Morning Boss," Sgt. Manny Diaz greeted him. "You're just in time for Carmen's briefing on her interviews of the dancers."

"Fine," he responded, "let me hang up my jacket and I'll be right with you."

He went into his office, booted up the computer, waited until the home screen appeared, and joined his team at the table.

"It was a long day," Carmen said as she started her briefing. "I was able to interview ten of the dancers, two more were on their day off. To cut to the chase, for the most part, they seemed genuinely shocked and saddened by what happened to Bethany. Almost every one of them said they were scared the killer was one of their customers and had targeted Bethany."

Dragona was tempted to interrupt and ask why they felt that way but thought better of it.

"I asked them why they would say that," Carmen continued, "not one of them had any specific reason, it was just the only thing that made any sense to them. In fact, they all said before the murder they felt Jerimiah and his people had been doing a great job keeping them safe. A few of them commented that Mr. King was providing them escorted rides home when their shifts ended at night, that was something no other club in the city was doing."

"In between the interviews I watched some of the girls perform, from what I could see they push how they sell their act right up to the legal limit when it comes to flesh to flesh contact and showing off their assets. I noticed the bouncers were always within arms-reach when the girls went from the stage onto the floor among the customers."

"As far as any of the girls acting like hookers, I didn't see that, though that could be because they knew who I was and what I was doing there. But in my one on one talks with them I was blunt about the suspicion they were pimping out their services. From the reactions I got, I sensed these girls were too smart to get caught up in hooking up for pay, in fact every single one of them said she was doing modeling or bit parts in shows around town. They all seem to be looking for that big break into showbiz. That pretty much sums up what I learned. I'll write up interview reports for each one I spoke with for the file."

Dragona was surprised that none of the detectives interrupted Carmen or made comments while she spoke. He thought this morning they were seeing a side of her they weren't used to; she seemed very focused on the case, not her usual salty tongue or sarcasm.

"Carmen, did any of the girls provide names of any guys they thought we should be looking at?" Dragona asked.

She looked over at her boss. "Yeah, they mentioned three guys they said were constantly hitting on all the girls, in particular on Bethany when she worked the bar."

"Names?" Manny Diaz asked.

"Yeah, just a minute," Carmen answered as she rustled through the paperwork she had in the folder in front of her.

"One guy goes by the name Jimi-G, he's a black male, twenty-five or so; a couple of the girls said they thought he worked as a DJ in some downtown clubs No one knew specifically which clubs"

"The second guy goes by the name of Devin, he's a white male in his thirties. He told some of the girls he's a commodities trader, brags about having big bucks, drives a Maserati. He seemed to hit on Bethany and another girl, Brittany, more than the others. Three of the girls that mentioned him said he's a lush, he gets real nasty when he drinks, in fact last week Bethany had to cut him off at the bar and he made a scene. Jerimiah and his men threw him out, he hasn't been back since."

Both Manny Diaz and Paul Costa looked at Dragona and raised their eyebrows.

"The third guy's name is Mark, they didn't know his last name, they said he's about thirty, tall, short dark hair, always wears a black suit, dark tie, and shiny shoes. The girls that mentioned him said he's a real lecher, constantly talking about hooking up with them. They don't know what he does for a living but commented sometimes he's at the club around lunchtime and then comes back later in the night. They said he's a regular, always has a wad of cash on him but is a cheapskate when it comes to tips.

"Black suit? Dark tie? First name Mark?" Could be our funeral director and part-time ME helper Mark Brock," Detective Costa said. "I was able to access the preliminary autopsy report online. It does list the ME attendants who went to the scene and a Mark Brock was one of them."

Dragona and the others exchanged looks but no one commented on this development.

"That's pretty much all I have," Carmen said as she closed the folder in front of her.

"All right, thanks Carmen. I have a few things," Dragona said.

He told them Chief Prentiss had spoken with the ME and put pressure on him to expedite the DNA analysis on the exam glove found on the fire escape.

"I know it's a long shot they could match it up with someone in the database, but it's the best lead we have so far," he said. "On that point, I'm waiting for a callback from Lieutenant Consuelo of the Crime Scene Unit to find out if there's any chance the glove could have been discarded by one of his people," he explained. "If it was, that would knock us back to square one."

The detectives looked at each other, no one had anything to say.

"Moving on, today I have some assignments for you," Dragona continued.

"Ricky, last night I spoke with a gal who said she was a classmate of Bethany at NYU. She mentioned some guys at the school were trying to date her, the girl I spoke with said as best she knew, Bethany wasn't interested. I don't know if you ever met Mike Mooney when he was the Commander over at the Three-Four Precinct. He retired last year and took a job with NYU as Assistant Director of Security. I need you to track him down and see if he has any info on assaults of female students on campus that could point us at potential suspects in our case. Again, it's a long shot but something that needs looking into."

"Okay, got it Boss," Detective Malone answered in acknowledgement.

"Matt, Paul, I need you guys to track down this commodities trader guy, what's his name?" he asked aloud.

"Devin," Carmen answered to refresh his memory.

"Yeah, Devin" I know it's tough without a last name, but maybe you can find his full name from the Securities and Exchange Office downtown. If you get lucky and can ID this guy, work up a background on him; check out where he lives, what he drives, where he's originally from, where he went to school, whatever you can find out about him."

The two detectives nodded they understood.

"Carmen, when you finish writing up your report on the dancer interviews, give Intelligence a call and see if they have anything on this Jimi-G. If that doesn't pan out, try some of the talent booking agencies. You can give them a cover story; tell them you're planning a party, that someone recommended him as a DJ and you're doing a reference check."

Dragona looked over at Tommy Burr who appeared to be eagerly awaiting his turn at bat. "Tommy, when we finish here come into my office and fill me in on what your research has found on Eton Boucher and Gisella Hould."

"Yes Sir," the young detective responded in acknowledgement.

"Okay, anybody have anything else?" Dragona asked as he looked at his squad. No one spoke up. "Okay then, let's hit the streets."

Dragona went into his office and saw he had some phone messages waiting.

The first was from Lt. Ramon Consuelo. He said he was surprised about an exam glove being found on the fire escape, but claimed his men used department issued blue latex-free exam gloves, not white ones. "Okay," Dragona said to himself. Now he was more confident the white glove belonged to the murderer.

The second call was from Detective Lauren Rocano in the Intelligence Unit. Once again, her soft voice caught Dragona's attention. The detective said she was currently on two days off but suggested he give her a call on her cellphone. Her brief message said she had a feeling her information on a black-market trafficking of harvested human organs case she had been working on for months might tie in with the current murder case. He saved her message and dialed the number she had left as her contact information. As he slowly tapped the numbers into his phone he thought if nothing else, he would have the chance to hear that soft voice again. She answered after a few rings.

"Hello," came the voice on the other end of the phone.

"Lauren, it's Dan Dragona, Violent Crimes, calling about your phone message."

"Oh hi! I was hoping you'd call," the detective said with a tinge of excitement. "I was thinking about you last night." This time her response was more of a purr than statement.

"Oh no! Having nightmares again, are we?" he jokingly asked.

"No! "she said with a giggle; "I've been thinking about your case. I think we have something in common."

That voice is killing me, Dragona thought to himself.

"Lauren, I'm very interested in learning more about the black-market trafficking case you mentioned. Any chance we can get together for you to brief me on it?"

"Of course! As I said on the phone, I'm off for two days but I'd be glad to meet you somewhere to go over my case."

"All right, I'm available this afternoon. If you're sure it's not interrupting your plans, I can meet you somewhere," Dragona said.

"No interruption at all. My family owns a restaurant in Jackson Heights, The Tuscan Maiden. Why don't you meet me there for lunch, say about one o'clock? We can sit at a booth where we have some privacy to talk."

"That sounds great Lauren, thanks! I'll see you at one."

The third phone message was one he hadn't expected. It was from Gisella Hould, and she was angry.

The gist of what amounted to a diatribe was that she was angry he had copied some of the club's video and had brought in a policewoman to interview all her girls without her permission. She mentioned several times she had been cooperative, and that he had gone behind her back while she was out of town. She demanded he call her as soon as he got her message.

"Yeah, right, Lady," he thought to himself as he saved the message.

He looked up and saw Tommy Burr standing just outside the office door, doing his best not to look conspicuous.

"C'mon in Tommy," he called out and motioned for the detective to take a seat.

The young detective was carrying a handful of printouts that he set down on Dragona's desk. Dragona noticed he looked nervous.

"Tommy, just relax, take a breath, and walk me through what you've come up with."

Tommy briefly spoke about Boucher's apparent visa violations and showed Dragona copies of queries he had made to the Immigration and Naturalization databases, as well as copies of the applicable Federal regulations that defined the requirements for foreigners travelling into the US. Dragona glanced at them and set them aside.

"I think I found some interesting information about Mrs. Hould," Tommy said.

"And what's that?" Dragona asked

Tommy explained Gisella was licensed as the permittee for King's Court. He produced copies of business tax information that he had found on several City database.

"King's Court is a Delaware corporation under the umbrella of QK Holdings.," he explained." I assume QK stands for Quentin King, but I'm not sure. They're current with all their taxes, fees and permits."

He looked up at Dragona as if he expected some questions; he had none.

Tommy continued. "I didn't find any information anywhere to show Mrs. Hould is or was ever married. Oh! I guess I shouldn't be calling her Mrs. then! Sorry. I did find that she owns a condo on the Upper West Side, she must be rich though; on some real estate websites I saw it's valued at between one point five and one point seven million. I researched City property records and didn't see any record of her ever having a mortgage on it."

Dragona thought on that a minute. "So, what does that mean?" he asked.

"I think it means she paid cash. I saw where she's owned it for the past four years," he answered as he slid one of the appraisal website printouts across the desk. Dragona examined it and set it aside.

"Anything else?" he asked.

"No, not on those two. I've been working on setting up the case file with the detectives' activity reports, I wrote up a report on the video that we seized with the search warrant, which by the way I listed on the inventory for the return of the warrant to the Court, but I don't know what happens next with that. I have about another hour or so to finish all that and then I'm caught up. Is there anything else I can do to help?"

"Tommy, this is great work you're doing! Most of the time on big cases like this our paperwork becomes a mess and we run around at the last minute trying to find important documents. Again, what you've done for us is excellent!"

"When Paul comes back from his assignment give the warrant to him and tell him I said for him to take you with him when he files the return. I want you to learn how to do that so in the future you can do that for us.

"Okay, thank you," Tommy said as he started to stand. Dragona motioned for him to sit.

"Tommy, can you access the dark web?" he asked. The off-topic question took him by surprise, he didn't immediately answer.

Dragona continued, "This afternoon I'll have some more information on what I'm looking for, but to get started, I need to know what the scope of trafficking in human organs is on the black-market. I've been told that there's websites on the dark web that illegally offer human organs for transplant. I need to know what that means in terms of the monetary value of those organs. Am I making sense?"

"When you say human organs, do you mean like hearts and kidneys?" Tommy asked incredulously.

"Exactly. Hearts, kidneys, lungs,.... and faces," Dragona replied.

Tommy Burr sat there with a shocked look as what his boss just said sunk in.

"You mean you think Bethany Bennett was murdered so her face could be sold for a face transplant?" he asked in a hushed voice.

"I don't know Tommy, but I received some information that needs to be looked into as a possible motive. Now, can you access the dark web?"

Tommy sat there with his hand over his mouth. "Yes, I can, but our Department network blocks access to it except by the Intelligence Unit. That was part of my job in IT, to monitor breaches of security and unauthorized access to certain sites."

"Okay, I can understand that, but can we get authorization for you to access the dark web?"

"I guess, but that would be up to Captain Turk to approve."

"Okay, I know Eddie Turk well, I'll give him a call and see what he thinks. If he gives the approval, do you think you can find those websites I'm talking about."

"Yeah, I mean yes, I can do that."

Tommy Burr went back to his desk, Dragona called Captain Turk. After Dragona explained what he needed, the man was shocked.

"Christ, Danny. What the hell has happened to our society? Now we're murdering each other to sell body parts? Do you have any idea what the public reaction will be if you find out that's the motive in your case?"

"I hear you Eddie, and I'm afraid you're right, but it has to be looked into. I've learned our Intelligence Unit has quietly been working on following up some leads on human organ trafficking, in fact I'm meeting with one of their detectives this afternoon for a briefing."

"I know Intelligence has dark web access, I approved it, but I was under the impression their access was related to black market drugs and human trafficking investigations. I never thought about trafficking in body parts," Turk explained. "I'm curious; who from Intelligence are you meeting with?"

"Lauren Rocano."

"You lucky dog; you've got to be kidding me!"

"Why do you say that?"

"Don't you know who she is?"

"No, educate me."

"Hah! With pleasure! Remember about two years ago we had that string of rape murders of prostitutes in the Bronx, and the Department worked the case with three women undercover officers dressed as hookers to nail the rapist? Well, the decoy that the guy grabbed was Lauren Rocano. He went at her with a knife, before her backup team could move in, she wrestled the knife away from him and in the fight his throat got cut. He bled out and died right there on the street. When they got his DNA from the post-mortem, they matched him to four rape murders. She got the Department award for bravery out of that.

"Yeah, I remember the case but I had no idea she was the decoy officer. If I recall, wasn't there a big Internal Affairs investigation about why the backup team waited so long before they called for the medics?

'Yeah, that happened, but in the end all those officers got was a verbal reprimand and had to take training on providing prisoners with medical attention."

"You're right, now it's all coming back to me," Dragona said.

"Well, as I said, you're a lucky dog! She's smokin' hot, a real fox! Tall, long blonde hair, great body. You lucky dog!"

"Ha! I can tell you this; on the phone she has a voice that could melt an iceberg. Now I really want to meet her."

"Well, my advice to you my friend Danny the Dragon, is just keep your hands to yourself. Remember what happened to the last guy that grabbed her! But seriously though, I'll set up your office with dark web access right away. By the way, who's going to do your research? Tommy Burr?"

'Yeah, Tommy."

"You owe me big time Danny for stealing that kid from me. He's young, but he's one of the best I've had yet in my unit. I heard you got him promoted to detective. Make sure you take good care of him."

"I agree, he's earned his keep with us already. We'll take good care of him, and thanks for your help with all this."

Dragona looked at his watch, he had a little less than an hour and a half before he had to be in Jackson Heights, a half-hour drive from downtown barring any traffic delays. He thought about retuning the call to Gisella Hould, but as he thought through what she had said in her phone message, he decided the hell with her; she could wait.
**Chapter 11**

Dragona turned onto 37th Street in Jackson Heights a few minutes before one. The Tuscan Maiden was located at the corner of 76th Street, he found a parking space near the entrance and went inside. His first impression was the place perfectly captured the ambiance of northern Italy. Travertine tile floors wrapped upward to chair rail height; the walls were washed in aged white plaster that drew a guest's attention to the rustic beamed ceiling. Off to the right was a bar that looked as if it could comfortably seat eight or ten patrons; to the left separated by a glass block wall adorned with hanging baskets of succulent plants was the dining room. He looked over and saw the willowy blonde standing behind the bar, he recognized her immediately. Eddie Turk was right; Lauren Rocano was smokin' hot!

The woman waved with a broad smile and walked over to greet him. She extended her hand, introduced herself and suggested they go into the dining room. She grabbed a leather document satchel from under the bar and led him a booth next to a large leaded glass bow window.

"Lauren, this place is beautiful, you said on the phone your family owns it?"

"Yes, Papa and my mother have been here for thirty years, it's a family place; Papa manages the front end, my mother and my aunt run the kitchen, most of the waiters and waitresses are my cousins. We're Italian! Everything is about family first." she explained.

"And you? An NYPD detective? Are you the rebel daughter?" Dragona asked.

Lauren laughed. "Some might say that, but no, I put my time in here. When I was in college I helped behind the bar. We're not a tavern, but we have our regulars from the neighborhood that stop in for a drink or glass of wine. Mostly they're friends of Papa, some of them came over from the old country like he did. I still bartend occasionally, mostly when we're booked for family parties and such."

"Well it's nice to see there's still a sense of family in the City," Dragona said. They sat in silence for a moment, he sensed Lauren was looking into his eyes.

"Something wrong?" he asked

"No, not at all. It's just that you look different than I thought you would."

"Different? How so?"

"Well, if I believed what I read in the papers, I expected you'd walk in here with fire breathing out of your nose! Danny the Dragon?"

"Oh that! Yeah, my friends who call themselves journalists. You know how that works."

Lauren folded her hands on the table and looked down. "Yeah, I know how that works," she said softly.

Dragona sensed he had inadvertently touched a nerve. He reached over and put his hand on hers.

"How are you doing, Lauren?"

She looked into his eyes. "I'm doing okay. It's been a hard road after what happened, but the department has been good to me. I sometimes miss working cases out on the street but I'm settled in at Intelligence and I'm getting to work on building cases I wouldn't be able to handle if I was assigned to a precinct."

'That's good to hear," Dragona said as he squeezed her hand before letting go. "Just take things a day at a time."

An older man approached their table, Lauren looked up. "Danny, this is my father, Joseph Rocano. Papa, Danny is a Detective Captain with the PD."

"Ah! A pleasure to meet you" the man said as he shook Dragona's hand., 'Have you decided what you'd like for lunch?" he asked his daughter.

"No Papa, we haven't even thought about lunch! Danny, would you like a meal or rather snack on some appetizers?" Lauren asked.

"I think some appetizers would hit the spot, I'm afraid a home cooked Italian meal would put me to sleep this afternoon."

"Fine. Papa, some mozzarella sticks, small salads and a half carafe of rose, please."

Joseph Rocano looked at Lauren, then Dragona, and raised his open hands out in front of his waist. "My daughter! She eats like a bird! Always appetizers and vino. Soon she'll be wasted away to nothing! I don't know," he said with mock forlorn as he shook his head, bowed slightly, and headed off to the kitchen.

Dragona held back a laugh, he couldn't say what was on his mind. Apparently, the term 'smokin' hot' had been lost in translation when Joseph came over on the boat from the Old Country.

"Okay Lauren, tell me how you got onto this harvested organ trafficking scheme."

She reached for the document case next to her on the seat and unzipped it. "Last year the Eight-One precinct caught a case where a family complained the remains of a young woman family member who had died were missing from a funeral home." She pulled some paperwork from the document case and passed it to Dragona.

"Patrol took the initial complaint; it was passed on to the Detective Bureau. They interviewed the funeral home and learned the body was supposed to have been held for the organ donor recovery team but when the team arrived to harvest the organs, the body was missing."

"After going through their paperwork, the funeral home realized the body had mistakenly been shipped out for cremation along with another body they were holding. The family was livid, they ended up suing the funeral home for damages, the investigation was closed."

"Jesus," Dragona muttered, "I can imagine the family was devastated."

Without commenting, Lauren continued." About four months ago, the Eight-Eight precinct caught a case on a complaint from the organ transplant team at Bellevue. In that case the hospital pathologist harvested kidneys from a deceased young female donor patient, a recipient hadn't been identified so the hospital had a funeral home pick up the kidneys and take it to their facility for holding. Sometime between when the kidneys left the hospital and a recipient had been identified, the kidneys were found missing from the funeral home. Detectives investigated and accepted the funeral home's story that the kidneys were cremated by mistake. Case closed."

"Okay, as awful as those mistakes sound, I can see where something like that could happen. But how did I get drawn into all this?"

"Do you recall reading four months ago about a funeral home service van being hijacked in broad daylight, and when it was found abandoned under the train tracks in Bed-Sty the adult female body it had been transporting was missing?" The Seven-Eight precinct caught that case.

"I do recall that, "Dragona said. "But I don't think I saw anything in the papers about the other two cases. Didn't the missing body turn up in the East River? I recall reading something about that."

"Exactly. What was never released was the information the body was missing its heart, lungs and kidneys. That's what got Intelligence involved."

"Jesus," Dragona said. How did the media miss that one?"

"I don't know, but it was a sharp detective in the Seven-Eight who connected the cases. By sheer luck, or in his case misfortune, he was the investigator of one the prior missing organs case when he was assigned to the Eight-One. He did some digging and realized the cases could be connected."

Before Lauren could continue, a young woman came to their table bearing a tray with their lunch. She introduced the girl as her cousin Angelina and thanked her for bringing our meals. As the girl left, Lauren looked back toward the kitchen and quickly turned back to face Dragona. She had a strange look on her face.

"Something wrong?" Dragona asked as he looked toward the kitchen.

"Don't look!" Lauren said with a hush as she grabbed his arm to pull his attention back to her.

"It's my mother and Aunt peeking around the edge of the kitchen doorway to get a look at you," she said, a blush starting to color her cheeks. "I'm sorry. Family!" she said shaking her head. "Let's eat!"

Lauren started with her salad, Dragona dipped one of the mozzarella sticks into the pasta sauce and took a bite. Instantly, the richly spiced sauce excited his taste buds. He savored the sensation.

"God, this sauce is incredibly good! Did your mother and aunt make this?"

"They did! Everything here is made right in our kitchen. Locally grown tomatoes, fresh spices, crisp lettuce from the produce market down the street. Yummy, isn't it?"

"It's incredible!" Dragona said as he quickly took a second helping."

He reached over and poured wine first into Lauren's glass, then his. She raised her glass in a toast.

"Not exactly lunchtime conversation but here's to our working together to find our body parts snatchers," she said as they gently clinked glasses.

They talked as they ate. Lauren said she was assigned to research black market sales of human organs, and she was shocked when she saw on the dark web kidneys for transplant were being offered for as much as fifty-thousand dollars, and someone had listed a human heart being offered for two-hundred-fifty thousand. Dragona had trouble with what she was saying.

"And do you believe that these offerings are legitimate?" he asked. "From what you're saying, body parts are being offered as if they were used cars. This is hard not to think these ads are a hoax."

"That's exactly what I thought at first!" Lauren said, "and you make a good point. I do think some of them are hoaxes."

"Why do you say that?"

"I found some of these websites turned out to originate in Nigeria and Ethiopia, those countries are notorious for internet hoaxes and scams. But about a month ago there was a private briefing for Intelligence officers in the tri-state area, and one of the speakers was from Washington. All we were told was he works for an intelligence agency. We weren't told what agency or even what his real name was. We guessed he was with the CIA but that was just our guess."

"That's kind of cloak and dagger, isn't it?"

"It was. He spoke initially about human trafficking in sex cases, especially the transport of young girls and women from Central and South America as well as Russia and the Balkans. Trust me, people don't know how epidemic the problem is world-wide. Anyway, later he spent a half hour talking about organ harvesting and black-market sales and that really opened our eyes."

Dragona saw her wine glass was empty. He picked up the still half-full carafe and made an offering. She smiled and nodded her acceptance; he refreshed her glass first, then his.

Lauren continued. "We learned there's a significant legitimate demand for human organs in the medical and pharmaceutical research fields, and a shortage of donor organs world-wide. The speaker shocked us when he asked what we would think if he told us some research companies would do anything necessary to obtain human organs, including buying them on the black market. Like I said, I was shocked. He said he couldn't name names but that the government had verifiable information this was happening."

"That is a shocker," Dragona concurred.

She took a sip of her wine.

"Danny, I don't think our cases are the work of an organized international organ trafficking scheme, I think our guy is someone local who has a connection with one or maybe two potential buyers."

Dragona sat there taking in what she had told him. It made sense to concentrate on identifying a local suspect, especially since she mentioned two prior incidents involving local funeral homes. He looked over at Lauren, she sat there with her glass poised in front of her.

"I've shown you mine, now show me yours," she said in that soft voice.

He fought hard not to laugh; she had him. He took a sip of wine to compose himself.

It took Dragona ten minutes to explain the status of Bethany Bennett's murder investigation. Lauren didn't interrupt, for that matter she didn't show any emotion or surprise, especially when he mentioned one of Bethany's admirers at King's Court worked in the funeral business and coincidentally was one of the ME's team that removed her body from the scene. He did notice her eyes narrow when he talked about Eton Boucher and his relationship with Quentin King, and the exchange of what we suspected was money between Boucher and the man we now thought was funeral home employee Mark Brock. When he finished, he took a long, slow sip of his wine, draining his glass.

She reached for the carafe to replenish his glass, he waved her off. "I've had my limit, thank you," he explained.

"So, what's our next move, Danny the Dragon?" she asked playfully as she reached over and took one of the two remaining mozzarella sticks on the plate. He watched as she delicately dipped the stick into the sauce and took a slow sensuous bite. She was killing him slowly.

"I've assigned detectives to work up profiles of Eton Boucher and the funeral home guy, Mark Brock. In the back of my mind, though, I have questions about Boucher reportedly making trips back and forth to France. We developed information he's not here on a long-term visa, that's a red flag in my mind."

"What are you going to do about that?"

"I need to interview Boucher's reported "life partner" and I use that term loosely, Quentin King. He lives out in the Hamptons and from what I've learned he's very private about his personal life."

"Oh! The Hamptons? That's a hike from Manhattan. When do you plan to go out there?"

"I'm not sure, I don't look forward to the drive," Dragona admitted. "Lauren let me ask you something. You've been working on the cases you told me about; with you being in Intelligence, are you permitted to take over these criminal investigations or are you limited to acting in a consultation role?"

She thought for a moment before she spoke. "Yes, my unit has worked on cold cases and has developed information to make arrests. In the past, we've prepared the arrest warrant applications and submitted them to the DA. In practice, he or she refers the issued warrants back to the case officer who did the initial investigation. Why do you ask?"

"My thought is you've opened up an avenue of investigation for my unit, our case has been splashed all over the front pages and we're under pressure to make an arrest. It makes sense that you be allowed to work with us and follow up on what you've learned about organ trafficking."

Dragona caught the smile on her face. "I'd love to work with you. It's been a while since I've been out on the street but I think I'm ready now."

"Great! I'll call Chief Prentiss and ask that he arrange for your clearance to work with us."

"Chief Prentiss? Can I ask you something? How did you ever manage to get this strong support from such a high-ranking Chief? I mean, I know you've had some great cases in your career, but there was so much discussion in the Department about his idea to form a violent crimes unit and who would run it. We expected it would be under the command of the Chief of Detectives, but Chief Prentiss hand-picked you."

"I'd like to think I'm not the proverbial sacrificial lamb!" Dragona said with a laugh. "But seriously, the concept behind my new unit and the way it's been set up is a bold initiative. It's no secret some people in the Department refer to the detectives I've selected to work with me as the "dirty half-dozen," but I chose them because they're not afraid to use other than contemporary investigative techniques to get the job done. This case will make or break that approach."

"Exactly what does "other than contemporary investigative techniques" mean," Lauren asked with a concerned look on her face.

"It means things like working around the clock on leads, not worrying about limiting efforts to an eight-hour shift. It means hitting the streets and putting pressure on informants to get information, even if that means backing them up against a wall. If they act like tough guys, we'll be tougher. It means going back to old-school basics, doing foot surveillance, banging down doors, not just sitting behind a desk. relying on wiretaps or computer searches to get information. The answers to our questions are out there; we need to pull out all the stops to get them," Dragona explained.

Lauren appeared to be processing what she had just heard.

"That sounds to me like you've narrowed the fine line that distinguishes us from the bad guys. Aren't you worried your team may cross over that line?"

"I trust them, Dragona answered. "I handpicked them after taking a long hard look at how they've handled themselves in their careers. Granted, they're rough around the edges, hell, some of the things they've done have been downright scary, but they're smart. I trust they know enough to stop pushing before they cross over that line."

"I hope you're right Danny. You have a lot riding on this," she said and downed the last of the wine in her glass.

"You'd better get back to work. I've enjoyed our lunch, and I look forward to working with you," she said as she started to gather her belongings.

"Can you get me our check?" he asked.

She waved him off. "No, lunch today was on the Rocano family."

"Well, thank you very much! At least let me leave your cousin a nice tip."

"Fine, but don't be too generous. I don't want her to get too attached to you!" she said with a smile as she stood up.

Lauren turned and looked toward the kitchen. "Oh, no!" she groaned.

"What's wrong?" Dragona asked, as he turned to see what she was looking at.

"The snoop sisters! My mother and my aunt! They're trying to be discrete, but they're dying to check you out."

Dragona smiled.

"Humor me?" she asked

'Sure."

Lauren surprised him when she took him by the hand and slowly led him toward the kitchen door. Her hand was warm, her skin moist.

"I'm Italian, the oldest of three daughters, the only one who's not married," she whispered as they walked. "I'm the one that walked away from spending my life in the kitchen of the family business; I'm the one who joined NYPD, I'm the one who dyed her hair blonde. I'm the "Selvagio," the wild one!"

"Every family has one," Dragona quipped, at a loss for how else to respond to her comment.

"Mama! Aunt Sofia! This is my friend from the PD, Captain Dan Dragona. We're going to be working together on a case." Lauren said as they stepped into the kitchen.

Instantly, the aroma from the sauces simmering on the large gas fired stove filled his nostrils, conjuring up a feeling of standing in a rustic stone house tucked into a rolling meadow in Tuscany, with the assembled family generations of women preparing a feast.

The two women extended their greetings, the front of their long aprons lightly splattered with traces of flour and tomato sauce.

"Laurena," her mother said as she took her daughter by the arm. "You must bring your friend to dinner Friday night for the _Festa del ' Uva."_

Dragona looked at Lauren, he was perplexed by the unfamiliar term.

" _Festa del ' Uva._ celebrates the end of the grape harvest in Tuscany. It's one of my family's Old-World traditions," Lauren explained. "You don't have to feel obligated to join us; I know you're very busy."

Dragona surprised himself with how quickly he answered.

"I would enjoy that very much. Thank You!" he said as he slightly bowed in gratitude to Lauren's mother.

"I'd like that too," Lauren said softly as she interlaced her fingers with his.
**Chapter 12**

As Dragona walked into the squad room Detective Matt Costa pulled him aside. "Boss, Chief Prentiss called looking for you around noontime. He asked that you give him a call when you got back in the office."

Dragona acknowledged the message and looked around the office.

"Where's Ricky and Manny?" he asked, noticing Detective Malone and Sergeant Diaz weren't there.

"Ricky is back in his Popeye Doyle mode," Burns said referring to Detective Malone. "He and Manny have been out working up a profile on this undertaker guy, Mark Brock. They caught up with him coming out of his apartment on Clarkson Avenue over in Brooklyn. They called in and said they were putting a tail on him for a while."

"And Burns and Tommy Burr?" Dragona asked.

"Paul took the kid down to the Courthouse to file the return on the video search warrant. They should be back soon."

"And Carmen?" Dragona asked.

'She said she was going downstairs to the Crime Lab; I don't know what that's about."

Dragona thanked him for the status report and went into this office to call Chief Prentiss. He noticed the message waiting light on his phone was flashing, he ignored it and dialed the Chief.

"Danny, I tried to reach you before my meeting with the Commissioner." Chief Prentiss said when he answered.

"Sorry Chief, something came up. We may have a new lead on the case."

"That's all right. I told the Commissioner the case was moving along; you were running down some leads. Tell me about this new one."

Dragona briefed him on Lauren Rocano's research findings, the possible connection to Bethany Bennett's case through the identification of King's Court customer Mark Brock and his employment both as a funeral home attendant and part-time Medical Examiner attendant, and the discarded surgical glove found on the fire escape. When he finished the Chief was quiet for a moment.

"Lauren Rocano? How is she doing, Danny?"

"Aside from being drop dead gorgeous, she seemed to be doing fine. Why?"

"We were worried about her after she killed the East Side rapist suspect, we weren't sure she was going to stay with the Department after that. When she applied to return to duty a few months after it happened, we decided to place her in Intelligence rather than back on the street. And I agree, she's a beautiful girl."

"Well Chief, putting her where you did was good for me. She may have come across the motive for Bethany's murder."

"Danny, you mentioned this funeral home guy, Brock I think you said his name is; are you thinking about bringing him in and leaning on him?"

"Not yet Chief. I'm waiting for the results of the DNA test on the surgical glove I told you we found on the fire escape. If Brock is in the City's database and we get a match, then there's probable cause he's the murderer. Until we get those results. two of my detectives are doing surveillance on him."

"Okay, I agree with that, but let me ask you something. Can you tie him into the Dark Web postings you mentioned?"

"No, I can't, that's a big part of this puzzle. If he's not doing the posting, I need to figure out if he's the source providing the body parts and if so, how he's getting them to the sellers."

"Will some computer forensics help with that? You know, try and trace the origin of these postings?" the Chief asked.

"It's an avenue we need to pursue. I have Tommy Burr from IT here now. The kid's computer skills are excellent. I'll put him on that to see what he can come up with. I had another idea though, Chief."

"And that is?"

"I'd like to get Lauren Rocano temporarily assigned to my team. She has the most knowledge about organ trafficking and the past cases of missing remains. Her work at Intelligence ties in with building probable cause for the motive in our case."

The Chief hesitated. "Are you sure your request is for police business and not personal?"

"Ha! To be perfectly honest, that's a tough call! We met for my briefing at a restaurant her family owns in Jackson Heights. I admit, sitting across the table from her was a pleasure."

"I'm sure," The Chief said. "I'd bet there's a couple thousand men in NYPD who would give a month's pay to have that opportunity. All right, just keep it professional. I'll make the call and arrange for her re-assignment. Just remember what happened to the last guy who got grabby with her. Keep me posted."

"Duly noted, and I will," Dragona said as he ended the call.

Dragona stared at the flashing message waiting light on his phone. After a few seconds he retrieved the call; it was Gisella Hould again, this time her temper was on fire.

In a scorching rant, she chastised his failure to return her first call and raged on again about the interviews of her dancers without her consent. He didn't bother to play back the entire call, instead he saved it for posterity. As he sat there considering his next move, he had a thought. Was Ms. Hould trying to hide something?

He looked up and saw Carmen Della-Rosa coming through the office door, he waved to get her attention and motioned for her to come in. She settled into the chair across from his desk and dropped her shoulder bag to the floor.

"Paul said you went downstairs to the crime lab. How'd you make out?"

"Eh! I didn't hear what I wanted to, but I did come up with something else," she said as she slumped back in the chair."

"They recovered DNA from the inside of the fire escape glove. They ran it through their database, it wasn't a match with anyone on file."

"Damn," Dragona muttered. "Nothing is ever easy, is it?"

"Nope. The tech said they'll submit our sample to the FBI but we shouldn't get our hopes up we'll hear back from them anytime soon. He said he'd submit it today, but if we come up with a local suspect and can manage to get their DNA, he'd make a comparison for us in our lab on a priority basis."

"Okay, if that's the best he can do, so be it. What else have you got?"

"I inventoried the evidence from the garbage bag the homeless guy found in the dumpster, and I have to tell you, even with everything dried out it made me sick to my stomach. There had to be a pint of dried blood on it, that caused a lot of cross-contamination. Anyway, we were right. I found a complete paper jumpsuit, saturated with blood. It's like the type our crime scene guys wear. There were two pairs of bloody surgical gloves, a surgical mask, paper booties, and wadded up bloodied surgical sponges. I also found women's jeans, blouse, bra and underwear I assume were the victims."

"So, what are you saying?" Dragona asked. "The killer undressed her?"

"That's the only explanation," Carmen answered. "Going back to the gloves, the tech took a DNA swab from the inside of one of the gloves in the bag and said he'd compare it with the sample from the fire escape glove."

"Okay, so if it matches, we can say the guy who bloodied all the stuff in the bag was the guy who used the fire escape," Dragona said.

"That would be nice, but I don't think the bag swab is going to show any traces of DNA.

"How do you figure that? he asked.

"I think the perp doubled gloved. He discarded the outer pair, the one that had contact with the victim's body, in the garbage bag and didn't remove the inner pair until he got out onto the fire escape. If that's what he did, he wouldn't leave any fingerprints or DNA especially as he went back out through the window."

Dragona leaned back into his chair and ran his hands through his hair.

"So, we can link the garbage bag evidence to the victim through the blood type match to hers, but we can't match what we think is the perp's DNA from the fire escape glove to the bag evidence."

"Correct, not until we play our ace card," Carmen said.

"And that is?"

"I said we found a surgical mask. The perp was breathing into it. Nasal fluid carries DNA. I think when the tech swabs the mask and runs that comparison, we'll get a match."

"Okay, we ran that around the flagpole, but it still doesn't ID the perp," Dragona said in disappointment.

"That's correct."

He thought about what he had just learned, but one thing still troubled him.

"Any idea how to explain why we didn't see any traces of blood on the living room floor going to the window. The crime scene guys' report said they sprayed some Luminol and scanned the floor with a black light but that found no trace of blood."

Carmen shook her head. "I have no explanation for that."

Both sat quietly for a few moments, avoiding each other's eyes

"What's our next step?" Carmen asked.

"I learned something this afternoon that we need to investigate. Give Manny a call on his cell and have him and Ricky come back here as soon as they can. See if you can raise Paul, I want him and Tommy in here too."

Carmen sat there looking at him expecting an explanation or at least a hint of what was going on. Dragona wasn't ready to play his hand yet, he dismissed her with, "Thanks."

He noticed a stack of reports neatly placed on the corner of his desk, he slid them over and saw they were printouts of the detectives' case activity reports. Tommy Burr was settling into his clerk of the works role well, he thought to himself.

As he read through the documents he saw that Carmen still had to interview two dancers at King's Court, and no one had yet interviewed Bethany's friend and co-worker Danielle Howard, who initially found the murder scene He made a note on a post-it to have someone check with the hospital and see if Danielle was still a patient there, and attached it to the stack.

Twenty minutes later his full team was assembled in the squad room, he went in to brief them.

In hindsight, he probably shouldn't have started out by mentioning Intelligence analyst Lauren Rocano was the source of new information and would be temporarily assigned to the squad. Even Carmen joined the men in showing their surprise, although Dragona sensed for the men, it was lust. Upon seeing the reactions of the others, young Tommy Burr sat there with a bewildered look on his face. Carmen, who was sitting next to hm, reached over and patted his arm.

"Don't worry Tommy Boy, I'll explain it to you later," she said. Looking over at her male counterparts she sneered, "In your dreams, guys."

"You may continue Captain," she said as she turned to Dragona and gave him an exaggerated smile.

"Thank You, Detective."

He explained Lauren's research findings concerning the three cases of missing human organs, and her subsequent finding of the postings on the dark web. He explained he thought the information was compelling and could realistically fit the narrative of the motive for Bethany Bennett's murder.

Dragona noticed Matt Costa was sitting there slowly rubbing his chin.

"Matt, something wrong?" Dragona asked.

"No, it's just that what you said begs the question if our perp is selling body parts, how is he storing them and ultimately making the delivery?"

"That's the million-dollar question," Dragona said. "Carmen, you're the one with medical expertise, what do you think?"

She sat there in silence for a few moments. She shifted her eyes to each of the detectives and turned to Dragona.

"I think if it were a fresh kill, like Bethany's was, the organs, or in her case her face, would need to be quickly put on ice and then moved to a refrigerator. As far as the organs missing from the funeral homes, I'd want to know if the bodies had been embalmed before the organs were harvested. If they were, they wouldn't be suitable for transplant and possibly even for medical research. To be sure, I would ask that question of the Medical Examiner."

Dragona noticed that Tommy Burr had come to the table with a notepad.

"Tommy, make a note of that as something that needs follow-up." The young detective nodded and made the notation.

Dragona saw that Carmen had her hand on her mouth, she appeared to be in deep thought.

"You know, I just had a thought," she said. "Remember those four round marks we saw on the floor next to the tub, and we thought maybe they were from a travel case? Do you think they could have been made by an ice chest?"

"I don't think so," Matt Costa said before Dragona could answer. "Ice chests are heavy and bulky, even the small ones. I can't see the perp going out through the window and down the fire escape carrying anything heavy. I was thinking more like the small travel case you mentioned. He could have put her face in a plastic bag and cover that with ice inside the case."

Carmen nodded her head in agreement.

"Okay, switch gears. Ricky, what did you find out about Mark Brock while you were doing surveillance?" Dragona asked.

The detective didn't immediately answer; instead he looked around at his co-workers.

"I don't want to throw a wrench into your organ trafficking theory, but after watching this guy for a while, I've got a different take on the motive, he said.

"Let's hear it," Dragona said.

"I've tailed a lot of mutts over the years, this guy has the look and swagger of a wise guy wannabe."

"Why do you say that?" Matt Costa asked.

"It's the look. Long black cashmere coat, white shirt, open collar, Fedora hat. Who the hell wears a Fedora these days, especially a young Turk like this mutt?"

"What was he doing while he was out?" Dragona asked.

"He hit two dive bars. I followed him into one, he spoke with the bartender for a few minutes, downed a shot and left. Then he went up the street to a bodega and hung out for a few minutes with another mutt who looked like a Guido. He hailed a cab; we were gonna tail him in Manny's car when Carmen called us back here."

"What the hell does all that have to do with a motive for killing the girl?" Carmen asked.

"It's just a hunch. I'm wondering if she pissed this guy off, he threatened to rip her face off and then went and did it. We know he was in the club and took an envelope from that other guy, you know the owner's boyfriend. Maybe he hired him to off the girl. I'm telling you, this mutts got a wise guy mojo going."

Carmen shook her head in disagreement. "I'm not buying it. Her face wasn't ripped off, it was surgically removed. What you're saying doesn't match up with what we saw."

"Okay, okay," Dragona said to end the debate. "Ricky, how do you want to play this guy?"

"Give me and Manny another day to sit on him. We know where he lives, but if he's a funeral guy like we heard we don't know where he works. Maybe we'll get lucky and tail him to his job."

"All right, give it another go tomorrow. It would be a stroke of pure luck if we found he worked at one of the funeral homes that reported the stolen body parts."

"Paul and Matt, we still need to interview Bethany's neighbor friend Danielle...I forget her last name."

"Howard," Tommy Burr interjected." Danielle Howard."

"Right. You guys track her down. I don't know if she's still in the hospital or was discharged. Whatever, just find her and talk to her. I want to know if Bethany may have said anything to her about someone or something that was bothering her."

"What do you want me to do?" Carmen asked.

"You and I have some unfinished business at King's Court." He looked at his men. "If there's no questions, you guys know what you have to do, let's do it. Carmen, come into my office. You too, Tommy."

When they got settled in the office Dragona sked Tommy to read back his notes on the assignments the men were given. He recited them accurately.

"That's great. Good work, detective. Now I need you to use your computer forensic skills. You should have access to the dark web now, do some research on black market sale offers for human body parts. I'm interested in us learning about any websites or IP addresses that we may be able to trace. Any questions?"

"No Sir," the young detective answered. He stood and started to leave; Carmen stopped him. "Do you want me to tell him about Lauren or do you want to?" she asked.

Dragona thought for a moment. "Tommy, our new team member's name is Lauren Rocano. Google her, that will bring you up to speed on her background." He nodded he understood and headed back to his desk.

"How do you know Lauren?" Dragona asked Carmen after Tommy left.

"I met her in a group therapy session for PTSD officers after her incident. It was a small group, six of us before she joined. She's a sweetheart."

She deserved the medal she got, and those three son-of-a-bitch backup officers should have been fired for leaving her hanging out to dry when the rapist grabbed her."

Dragona was stunned for a moment, not just by her bitterness against her fellow officers, but more so why she was in PTSD therapy. He hadn't read that in her personnel file.

"What are you talking about?" he asked.

Carmen struck a relaxed posture, something he hadn't seen before from her.

"It's no secret I have a history with the Internal Affairs Use of Force Investigation Board. After my third appearance for an incident where I was accused of using excessive force in an arrest, the shrink said I might be suffering from post-traumatic stress. Hell, the traumatic stress was coming from the brass playing Monday morning quarterback second guessing me when I had to go hands on making an arrest. Anyway, I agreed and I can admit to you it helped me to talk about my feelings with other cops who had been involved in shootings or violent incidents. That's how I met Lauren. I lost track of her after I left the group, but I'm glad to hear she's still on the job."

"So am I. But you said her backup team should have been fired, what's that all about?"

"Ha! What never got out was they were too busy gawking at the hookers on the sidewalk when the rapist grabbed Lauren. By the time they realized she was in trouble he was already going after her with the blade. She was wrestling it away from him and that's when his throat got slashed. Then they left the perp lying on the sidewalk bleeding out before they radioed in for a bus. He was pretty much dead when EMS got there."

"I never heard that version of what happened, that's good for me to know."

"Well, that's just between us, right?" Carmen asked. "Like I said, she's a sweetheart and I'm glad she's back to work. Now, what do you need from me on our case? You said we had some unfinished business?"

"Yeah," Dragona answered, "I want you to listen to a phone message I got from Gisella Hould, she's the business manager at King's Court."

"I know who she is; Jerimiah told me about her."

Dragona didn't press the issue of what Jerimiah had told her, he retrieved the message and put it on speaker.

They listened in silence.

"Bitch needs an attitude adjustment, don't you think?" Carmen asked when the message ended.

"Exactly! That's why I want you to take a ride over to the club with me. We need to have a chat with Ms. Hould. And grab the still shot printouts of the club video from Tommy and bring them with you. We might need them."
**Chapter 13**

Rather than drive their separate unmarked cars, they took a cab to King's Court. As they walked into the entrance, they realized a disturbance was taking place in the performance room. Several men who apparently had been at the restaurant bar were standing in the doorway to see what the commotion was all about. Dragona had expected to see Jerimiah at his podium post, he was nowhere to be seen.

Carmen walked quickly toward the doorway pushing the onlookers aside as she announced, "NYPD. Move!" She took the men by surprise; thankfully they didn't protest as she brusquely passed through them.

"Carmen, wait!" Dragona called out, but there was no stopping her.

Dragona pushed through the crowd of men announcing, "Police, stand aside."

He saw Carmen heading toward Jerimiah who was alongside two of his bouncers. They were facing off against a large casually dressed Hispanic man who was spewing threats, daring them to take him on. Off to the left a dancer was comforting a co-worker who was crying hysterically.

Suddenly the man smashed a beer bottle on the edge of a table and waved it menacingly at the bouncers, taunting them to fight him.

Jerimiah stepped toward the man as he swung the jagged end of the bottle toward his face, Jerimiah lurched back to avoid the blow, tripping over one of the his men who was standing behind him and fell to the floor The attacker leaped forward to deliver a blow while he was down.

Suddenly, Carmen stepped into the fray, hollered, "Police, drop it." Without waiting for him to comply, she delivered a fist to the man's face. As he lost his balance from the blow, she seized the wrist on the hand holding the bottle and slammed it down onto the knee she was raising up in a kick. Dragona could hear the man's bones breaking as he screamed in pain and dropped the bottle. Before the bouncers could move in and help subdue him, she continued to fight, delivering a rapid series of blows to his head and face dropping the man to the floor, not stopping until Dragona moved in and grabbed her arm.

"Carmen! Enough! He's done!" he shouted.

She whirled her head around and glared at him; she was breathing hard, her chest heaving and falling in her frenzy. She roughly grabbed the man and rolled him onto his stomach as she grabbed his wrist and put it around his back. The man again screamed in pain. She reached into the beltline on the back of her jeans and pulled out a set of handcuffs. She slapped one cuff on the broken wrist, violently grabbed the other wrist and twisted it behind his back for the second cuff. She sat on her knees for a few seconds looking at her prisoner. Her breathing slowed.

She patted the man down, from under his shirt she pulled out a small automatic pistol. She looked at it for a second and punched him hard in the back of the head, saying something in Spanish.

She looked over at Jerimiah and his bouncers who had a look of disbelief on their faces.

"Call 911, tell them there was a fight, armed suspect now in custody, plainclothes detectives on scene," she commanded. The men looked at each other.

"Do it!" Jerimiah barked to one of the bouncers who ran out toward the dining room.

Five minutes later Dragona heard sirens out front and the sound of tires screeching. Seconds later four uniformed officers came running into the room. The first officer saw Carmen kneeling on the floor holding the suspect's gun, he instinctively stated to pull his weapon from its holster before Dragona could say anything. A second officer, a Sergeant, quickly reached out and stopped the first officer.

"Hold it! She's one of ours," he said.

"Carmen, what the hell are you doing, girl?" the sergeant asked as he recognized her.

'Just getting the trash ready for you to take out," she said as she handed him the gun.

"I didn't check; it may have a round in the chamber," she added.

The Sergeant removed the magazine from the gun and pulled the slide back, ejecting a bullet."

"Anyone hurt? he asked as he looked around.

"No," Carmen quickly said, "Well..., maybe this one here," she said as she punched the man again in the back of his head. He lay there moaning, his face bloodied, bleeding out onto the hardwood floor.

The Sergeant looked over and saw Dragona.

"Captain, sorry, I didn't see you there. Can someone tell me what the hell's going on here?"

Carmen spoke up. "They can tell you," she said motioning at Jerimiah and his men. "I'll write up a statement for you later and send it over to the Precinct.

"I'd run the serial number on the gun if I were you. I'll bet it's stolen," she added.

"What is going on here?" A woman's voice loudly demanded. "And what are you doing here again?" she belligerently asked as she pulled on Dragona's arm for him to face her. It was Gisella Hould.

She glared at Jerimiah. "I asked what is going on here! When I speak to you, I expect an answer, not a dumb look. I'm the boss here, not you!"

Before Dragona could silence her, Carmen took a few steps toward.

"You've got a real attitude problem, you know that Grandma?" she said as she stepped closer, almost in the woman's face.

"If I were you, I'd shut my big mouth unless you want a piece of what that guy just got," she said pointing over her shoulder.

"Let it go, Carmen," Dragona warned.

"We need to talk; in your office," he said to Gisella. He could see there was fire in her eyes. She wasn't moving, her eyes were darting between him, Carmen, and Jerimiah.

"Move! Now!" he commanded, his patience running thin with the woman's drama. She clenched her jaw, turned and stormed toward the dining room.

As they crossed through the doorway from the performance room, the group of curious onlookers was now larger, they slowly stepped aside to let them pass. The last to reluctantly clear a path was a tall black man wearing a wide striped suit and holding a drink in his hand. He looks like a pimp, Dragona observed as he walked past him.

"Yo! Mama! You be like Wonder Woman," the man said to Carmen as he bobbed up and down as if he was standing on a street corner at a reggae fest.

"What say you and me have a drink and get close?" he asked.

Before Dragona could stop what he knew was coming next, Carmen thrust her right hand out and caught the man by the throat just under his chin. His arm flew back as he tried to juggle his drink as she slammed his head against the wall.

"Never, never call me Yo Mama," she said angrily.

"Chill Baby," the man retorted in a tone of defiance.

Carmen exploded. "Don't give me that chill baby ghetto crap," she said as she dug her fingers into his throat, the pain driving him up onto his toes.

"Chill baby this," she sneered as she took her left hand and hit the drink glass spilling its contents onto his suit.

Dragona saw her take a step back and start to bring her knee up.

"Carmen, enough," he yelled, but it was too late.

The man dropped to the floor, his hands clutching his family jewels.

Seemingly out of nowhere, Jerimiah appeared and stared down at the man who was now curled up on the floor.

He reached down and yanked the man to his feet. His face was contorted as he was forced to stand upright.

"Never, ever disrespect a woman in this club," he warned the man. "You're banned. If I ever see you in here again, we will call the police. Do you understand me?" he asked with a menacing look on his face. The man meekly nodded.

"Get him out of here," Jerimiah said to his to his bouncers who were now standing behind him with a uniformed officer.

"I'm sorry, Carmen," he said as he turned to her. She smiled at him and touched his arm.

"It's okay, it wasn't your fault," she said softly.

She glanced over at Dragona, and then back at Jerimiah. "We'll talk later, Hon."

Dragona saw that Gisella Hould was staring at Carmen in disbelief of what she had just witnessed.

"Move!" Dragona said as he took her arm and guided her toward her office.

They went into her office, Gisella and Carmen sat across from each other on the two love seats.

"Should I call a lawyer?" Gisella asked.

"Not unless you want to tell me you murdered Bethany Bennett, "Dragona said.

"That's absurd! Of course I didn't murder Bethany! I loved her; she was like a daughter to me." she answered. "I was grooming her on how we run the business, I had it in the back of my mind she would be perfect to take over as manager when I retire."

"Oh? Are you thinking of retiring?"

'In a year or two, maybe sooner; yes."

"Then why do you think you need a lawyer?"

"I don't know why you're here."

'We're here because one of your employees was murdered and we think the killer has some connection to this club.," he explained.

As the woman sat there, Dragona saw she was trembling. What is she afraid of he thought to himself?

He walked over to her bar and saw a carafe of red wine. Without asking he reached for a glass but had second thoughts she couldn't handle it without spilling the way her hands shaking. He saw a clean fine china teacup and filled it half-way with the wine. He walked over and handed it to her.

"Here, relax. We're here to ask you some questions, that's all," he said as he handed her the cup. She didn't hesitate to take a long sip. Using both hands to steady it, she set it down on the glass top coffee table.

"When I was away you came in and took some of our video and you interviewed all my girls. I cooperated with you. I answered your questions. What am I supposed to think?"

"We're conducting a murder investigation. We took your video on the authority of a search warrant. We interviewed Bethany's co-workers because we need to learn as much about her life as we can. She was targeted by whoever killed her and we need to know why."

Gisella sat there staring at Dragona.

'Who are you protecting?" Carmen asked. The question shocked the woman.

"I'm not protecting anyone. Why would you say something like that?" she asked in an angry tone,

Carmen opened her shoulder bag and pulled out the photo of Bethany handing Eton Boucher what looked like a large amount of cash. She tossed the picture onto the table in front of Gisella.

"Then explain why Bethany is giving King's boy toy a wad of cash?" Carmen said pointing to the picture.

Carmen's confrontational tone caught Gisella off guard. She didn't answer as she stared at the photo.

"Well, maybe this will refresh your convenient memory lapse," Carmen said as she placed the enlarged photo of Gisella standing in the background during the transaction. "You looked pretty disgusted with what you were watching. Explain to us why."

Gisella blinked her eyes rapidly. She reached over for the teacup, her hands now shaking worse than before, she steadied the cup with her other hand and took a longer drink of the wine.

"Eton has some has some bad habits, I guess is the way to explain it." Gisella said. "He gambles. Sometimes before he goes to the casinos, he needs cash. Mr. King is aware of that, he has instructed me to give him what he asks for out of the club account."

"And how much cash did he need for this particular trip to the casino?" Dragona asked.

She hesitated for a moment. "Twenty-thousand."

"You keep twenty thousand cash in your registers?" Carmen asked." I don't believe it."

"No of course not! Each time before he comes in, Eton calls me to tell me what he wants. I take the cash out of the office safe and put it under the register cash drawer. What you see in this picture is Bethany giving him the money I put there."

"I would think most of the club customers pay their tabs with credit cards. Do you always keep that much of cash on hand?" Dragona asked.

He saw a slight flush of redness on Gisella's face.

"I make periodic cash withdrawals from the business account at the bank to insure we have cash on hand in case we're hit with an emergency."

"An emergency?" Dragona pressed. "What kind of emergency?"

The woman thought for a moment. "Like when we had the hurricanes and flooding; the blizzard last year. The banks were closed because of the power outages. We need to stay open, so I always have cash on hand to pay our employees and our suppliers."

"And how often does Eton come in and use the club as his personal ATM?"

Gisella bit her lip. 'This month I gave him money twice."

"And how much total did you give him this month?

She hesitated for a few moments. "Fifty thousand," she answered in a hushed voice."

Carmen shot a quick look over at Dragona; she was trying to hide her surprise but he could tell from the look in her eyes she knew what Gisella was saying didn't sound right."

"Fifty grand a month sounds like a serious gambling habit," Dragona said.

"What would you say if I told you a reliable source gave me information that Eton's bad habits aren't confined to just gambling, but that he has a habit of frequenting expensive female prostitutes?"

From the looks on their faces, the comment caught both Gisella and Carmen by surprise.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Gisella quickly answered.

"Yes, you do," Dragona contradicted her." I think you know a lot more than you're telling us. You told me that Eton is Mr. King's life partner, but that's not true, is it? In fact, it's a sham, a cover story."

"I don't know what you're talking about. Their personal lives are very private. I don't pry into what happens in their bedroom," she said.

"Well unfortunately, we do. And what I think is that Eton is bi-sexual, and if my hunch is right, he may be providing young men to Mr. King for his sexual pleasure in addition to providing certain unlicensed medical attention related to Mr. King's cosmetic surgery."

"How did you know that?" Gisella asked.

'Paris? The clinic. The plastic surgeon? Do you think we're stupid? This is a murder case we're trying to solve; we're looking into the personal lives of everyone connected to this club, including yours."

'Mine? Why are you investigating my personal life?" she asked, raising her voice in indignation.

"Your one point five-million-dollar condo on the Upper West Side; no record of you ever having a mortgage?"

"It was gift from Mr. King," she answered, her anger growing.

"And what did you have to do for him to be that generous? Keep your mouth shut about his indiscretions with young men or was it about his private jet making frequent flights to Europe trafficking them back and forth?" Dragona asked.

"I think I want a lawyer," Gisella said.

"Fine, that's your prerogative," Dragona said. "But I promise you, we're going to find out who murdered Bethany Bennett and why."

"If it takes us having to convene a Grand Jury to interview potential witnesses, so be it. Just remember if we do that, you could be subpoenaed to testify, and you won't have a lawyer sitting next to you on the witness stand holding your hand. If I were you, I'd think long and hard about what you want to do."

Dragona and Carmen let Gisella process what he had said. After a minute of silence, she spoke.

"What do you want from me?" she asked, her voice now subdued.

"Did Bethany ever question why you were giving Eton so much money?"

"Yes."

"And what did you tell her?"

"I told her that I was doing what Mr. King told me to do."

"You said you were grooming Bethany to possibly take over as the club manager. Did that grooming include her working on your financial records?"

'Of course."

"And did she ever question where the money you were giving Eton came from? I mean, the debit had to appear somewhere in your ledger, did it not?"

This time Gisella was silent for a long minute before she answered. "Those payments don't appear in the ledger."

Dragona paused his questioning. He didn't want to bring up issues related to financial audits and possible tax evasion; he needed to keep the murder case on track.

Carmen came to his rescue when she pulled another photo out of her bag and placed it on the coffee table. It was the photo of Eton handing an envelope of money to the man we believed to be funeral home employee Mark Brock. Carmen pointed to the man in the picture."

"Do you know who this is?" she asked.

Gisella studied the photo. 'All I know is his first name is Mark and he's a friend of Eton. They've flown to Paris together a few times."

Carmen looked over at Dragona. "I don't have anything else right now," he said, sensing Carmen was saying they should end the session.

"Ms. Hould, thank you for your time. Carmen needs to interview two of your girls who were off the other day, we need to know when they'll be working again, he said."

"Which two girls?" she asked. Carmen pulled her notebook from her bag and gave Gisella the names. She walked over to her desk, checked a schedule and said both girls were scheduled for the afternoon shift tomorrow.

'What about the fight that happened in the other room. What happens now? Do I need to do anything?" she asked.

Dragona said the officers should be done taken statements from Jerimiah and his staff, the suspect should have been taken to the hospital to have his injuries checked, and if he wasn't admitted he would be presented for arraignment either in night court or in the morning

"What happened today is very upsetting to me. We're not used to that kind of violence at King's Court," she said.

"You can thank Carmen for stepping in and stopping the guy from killing your employees," Dragona said as he turned for the door. "Let's go, Carmen."

Just as they stepped out into the dining room, Gisella called out; "Detective?" Carmen turned and looked at her. "Thank You."

They walked over to Jerimiah who was back at his podium. The dining section of the club was crowded, the deep bass drum beat from the music in the performance room next door was barely audible. Carmen walked up to Jerimiah; he gave her a long hug.

"Get us a cab, will you Hon?" she asked him.

They stepped outside, Jerimiah raised his hand in the air and as if magic a cab raced up to the front door. He opened the cab back seat door for them and leaned in and said something they couldn't hear to the driver.

"Where to?" the cabby asked.

"Manhattan South Precinct house," Dragona said. He and Carmen didn't speak during the ride, traffic was heavy but moving.

When they arrived in front of the precinct, Dragona asked what the fare was. The cabby turned around and looked at them.

"No charge folks, the ride was on Jerimiah. Have a nice night."

They got out and slowly walked to the Precinct door.

"Are you mad at me for what happened at the club?" Carmen asked.

Dragona stopped before they went inside.

"No, I'm not mad, I just don't want you to get jammed up in another excessive force beef. We can't afford to lose you out on suspension while Internal Affairs investigates you, we have a murder to solve."

'Well, those guys started it," she said as she headed to the door.

Prudently, Dragona didn't pursue the matter.

They went upstairs to their offices, the other detectives were out on their assignments, Tommy Burr was getting ready to leave.

"Do you need anything from me before I go, Sir?" he asked Dragona.

"No Tommy, you can head out. We'll pick it up in the morning."

Carmen said she would write up her report on the fight at the club and then head home. Dragona looked at his watch and decided it was a little early but he was going to call it a day.

A half hour later he was walking into this condo building, a half hour after that he was sound asleep on the living room sofa.
**Chapter 14**

The slamming of a door in the hallway jolted him from his slumber, it took a few seconds for him to realize where he was. He was still fully dressed, he looked over and saw his holster and gun on the coffee table.

As the shroud of sleep lifted, he slowly sat up, his body stiff from the restive supine position of the last hours. He squinted to look at his watch; five-thirty. Could this be the evening already he wondered? The sunlight streaming through the window on the wall behind him brought him into reality; it was morning, he realized he had slept through the night.

He heard chatter and footsteps in the hallway outside his door, it grew louder and then faded as it passed. He stretched, the stiffness in his neck and back protested their rude awakening for a few seconds and then dissipated. He slowly stood up and looked around. He was alone. He vaguely remembered a dream he was with Lauren Rocano, somewhere, doing something, but couldn't recall how it ended.

He slowly made his way to the bedroom and stripped off his clothes. He went into the bathroom and turned on the shower, in just a few minutes he could feel the warmth from the hot water raining down into the tub.

He stepped in and took a quick shower.

He decided his attire for the day would be a dark blue suit, tan button down long-sleeve shirt, and lightweight gray sweater. He slipped on his brown oxfords, tied the laces, and stood before the mirror on the back of the bedroom door to check his appearance.

He went out to the kitchen, poured himself a short glass of orange juice and downed it in one long draw. He laced his belt through the holster and slid the gun inside. He was ready to go to work.

The late September air was chilly as he walked out to his car in the gated parking lot. He noticed Misti Sommer's Audi wasn't there and wondered if she had another early start for work or was still out on a date from last night.

He drove to his favorite deli a few blocks away, went inside and bought his coffee, a newspaper, and donut. He would eat as he drove to the office; the paper he planned on reading at lunchtime would, as always, end up going unread because of the day's business. He glanced at the front page and saw the previous glaring headlines about his murder case had been replaced by the most recent scandal being uncovered in City politics. That was fine with him.

He arrived at the Manhattan South Precinct, parked, and went inside. He waved a greeting to the Desk Sergeant and rode the elevator up to his office. As he entered, he was surprised to see Tommy Burr was already there. He glanced at his watch; it was a few minutes before seven.

"What are you doing here so early?" he asked the young detective.

"Oh! Good Morning Captain. I'm here this time every day. Sometimes the subway has delays and I don't want to be late for work."

"The subway? Don't you have a car?"

"I do, but there's nowhere to park here. The garage downstairs is reserved for Department vehicles and the nearest public garage is six blocks away. To be honest, I can't afford to pay what they charge for parking."

Dragona suddenly realized he had missed something.

Because all his detectives were on call, they each had been issued an unmarked car that they took home.

When at the office, they had card access to the gated underground police garage. He didn't respond to Tommy's explanation and went into his office. He fired up his computer and brought up the Department phone directory. In a minute he found the office number for the Motor Pool dispatch office and called it.

After a short conversation he checked his emails and phone messages. Neither had matters that required his immediate attention, but one surprise phone message told him it was going to be a good day. It was from Lauren Rocano who said her boss at Intelligence had told her of her temporary assignment to Violent Crimes and she would be at the office by eight AM. She would need a place to set up her workstation, he thought to himself, and went out into the squad room.

After explaining Lauren's expected arrival, Tommy helped setting up a vacant desk for her next to Carmen's workstation.

As they were working, Dragona's cellphone rang; he looked at the caller ID and saw it was from Chief Prentiss. It was early for him to call.

"Danny, I'm going over the department's serious incident case reports from last night and I see one that mentions you and Carmen Della-Rosa. Something about a disturbance at Quentin King's place?"

"Yeah, about that," Dragona said; "We walked into that one."

"Well," the Chief said, followed by a pause; "From what I'm reading here it sounds like the perp walked into Detective Della-Rosa! It says he was treated for a broken wrist, facial lacerations, and a concussion."

"Yeah, about that. He was menacing the staff with a broken beer bottle. Carmen identified herself and ordered him to drop it. He didn't comply and started to attack one of the workers. At that point she stepped in, and there was a scuffle as she disarmed him."

"A scuffle?" The Chief asked. "Did you hear what I said? According to the ER report he had broken bones, lacerations, and a concussion."

"He started it," Dragona responded. The Chief was silent.

"And you were a witness to all this?" he asked a few seconds later.

"I was."

"Well, I want to stop by this morning and congratulate her."

"For what?"

"Her perp is wanted by LAPD for a triple homicide last month."

"Thank You, Lord," Dragona quietly said to himself in relief.

"Chief, the squads' on their way in, I'm going to brief them on some new information about Bethany Bennett's murder that Carmen and I got yesterday. Carmen should be here soon."

"You know, I'll have Earl drive me over right now. Why don't you hold off until we get there? Is the coffee on at your place?" he asked.

"If not, it'll be ready by the time you get here."

"Excellent! We're on our way," the Chief said and ended the call.

Just as he put his phone away Carmen and Ricky Malone same into the office. He didn't want the Chief to walk in on Carmen and trigger her PTSD thinking she was in trouble for yesterday's altercation. He greeted them and told Carmen he wanted to fill her in on something. She followed home into his office.

"Carmen two things; Lauren left me a phone message she'll be in around eight. I'd appreciate if you'd help her get settled."

"Of course. You said two things."

"Yeah, Chief Prentiss is going to sit in on our briefing this morning. He wants an update on the case and he said he wanted to hear it first-hand. I didn't want you to think he was coming because you were in trouble for what happened at the club yesterday."

"Something happen at the club?" she asked with a straight face.

Before he could respond she laughed. "I'm just teasing. Thank you!"

"Oh, and two more things! The Chief asked if we had coffee. Would you show Tommy how to make a pot of coffee?"

"Of course!"

"And by the way, I learned today he's in here early each morning because he takes the subway to work. Apparently, there's no parking space left downstairs for employees' cars."

'Yeah, I was going to say something to you about his taking the train every day," she said.

'That's the second thing," he said as he grabbed a document from his desk. "Here's a vehicle requisition. After the briefing take him down to the garage to pick up his unmarked car."

"You'll need to explain to him how the lot gates and gas pumps work, where to park and all that. I called down there this morning to make the arrangements. They have a new Camaro waiting for him."

Carmen smiled. "You really like this kid, don't you?"

"I do. He's young and has no street experience, but he has good investigative instincts. And besides, we need a computer wizard to help with our research. Just see that they treat him well downstairs."

A few minutes before eight the other detectives arrived, followed a few minutes later by Lauren.

Carmen went over to her, gave her a long hug and introduced her to the others. Dragona went out to the squad room, shook her hand and thanked her for agreeing to work with them on Bethany's case. As Carmen took her by the arm leading her to where she would be working, the male detectives were tripping over themselves to become part of the welcoming committee.

Dragona told the staff to grab a coffee and explained Chief Prentiss was on his way over to sit in on their morning briefing. The announcement took the others by surprise, thankfully the men's awestruck behavior toward Lauren settled down. He looked over at her and thought to himself he couldn't blame them for their teenage boy antics; she looked stunning this morning.

The group sat around the conference table killing time, much of the banter was about 'Fast Ricky' Malone's appearance and the persona he adopted when he had dressed for the day's foot surveillance assignment. He had put aside his pork pie hat Popeye Doyle look, opting for looking like someone out of a B-grade spy movie, His outfit consisted of off-white slacks, dark blue wool turtleneck pullover, a Navy Peacoat, topped off with a sporty dark beret that remained on his head as he sat at the table.

Ten minutes later, Chief Prentiss and his driver Earl Moore arrived, the group all stood to greet their superior officer, there were introductions and handshakes all around. Dragona noticed Carmen was the first to stand, she immediately went over to 'Earl the Pearl,' gently kissed him on the cheek and gave him a hug.

The group sat down, Chief Prentiss took a seat at the head of the table, Earl opted to settle his massive frame onto an armless wooden chair, slowly settling in as the legs strained to support him. He grinned widely with satisfaction when he realized he hadn't destroyed the furniture.

The Chief apologized for his last-minute appearance, and explained he had an announcement he wanted to share with the squad. He went on to commend Carmen for her work in arresting the man at King's Court yesterday, a fingerprint check found he was wanted in Los Angeles for a triple homicide. The Chief announced he was submitting a recommendation that Carmen be officially recognized for her superior work, adding that he expected the gun she found on the suspect would match up with spent bullet casings found at the scene of the murder. The group responded with polite applause.

Dragona was quietly glad the Chief hadn't brought up the injuries the suspect sustained during the arrest. He knew one thing was for sure; given the chief's recommendation for an award, Internal Affairs would have to look the other way on this one.

The Chief turned the briefing over to Dragona. He started by explaining he had received information from a reliable informant that confirmed Eton Boucher was well known for his casino gambling, as well as lavish spending on call girl escorts. The detectives were taken by surprise; from what they had been led to believe, Eton was Quentin King's lover.

Dragona continued, explaining he was awaiting evidence examination results of the latex glove found on the victim's apartment house fire escape and a paper surgical mask found amongst the bloodied items recovered from the nearby dumpster. He said the first attempt at matching recovered DNA with New York State's database was unsuccessful, hopefully the national database would find a match, but that would take time,

He acknowledged Lauren Rocano's temporary assignment to the squad, explaining she had been working on linking cases involving human organs being reported missing from funeral homes to postings on the Dark Web trafficking in the sale of organs.

Dragona looked around the room at his detectives. "I think you'll all agree our investigation is leaning toward Eton Boucher and his associate funeral home employee Mark Brock as being involved in Bethany's murder," he said.

"And I think you'll also agree Bethany was targeted for something that happened at her job with King's Court. But what?" he asked.

He looked around the table, no one spoke.

"I think most of the pieces to this puzzle are on the table," he continued, "except for one; exploring if and how Quentin King could have some involvement. My gut is telling me the private jet we learned he owns, and the frequent flights to Paris by Eton Boucher have some connection to the case."

He glanced at Chief Prentiss who appeared to be paying rapt attention to what he was saying.

"Ricky, you and Manny, continue your surveillance on Mark Brock,"

"Tommy, see if you can come up with flight records and manifests from Quentin King's jet for the past three months. I want to know who and what were on those flights. Make a note of who the pilots were, we may need to track them down for interviews."

"Paul and Matt, I want you to start putting together a profile of Gisella Hould, she's the club manager. Yesterday she told Carmen and me that she's been making large cash withdrawals from the club accounts; just last month, fifty-thousand of that she gave to Eton Boucher supposedly for his gambling expenses."

The group around the table had a shocked look from this revelation, including Chief Prentiss.

"Hould owns a condo on the Upper West Side, Tommy has the address. Check out the doorman, see who's been coming and going to visit her or make deliveries. You might want to set up surveillance on her, I can't imagine she's at the club sixteen hours a day."

Both detectives nodded their understanding.

"Carmen, you have two more dancers to interview at the club. See if you can get that done, and also check in with the crime lab on where we stand with submitting the DNA swabs for comparison."

He looked over at Lauren. "Did you bring your case files with you?" he asked.

"I did," she answered.

"Good, when we finish here, I want to go over them with you. From what you told me the other day I'm not clear if the missing organs in the case were surgically removed as part of a legitimate medical procedure or if they were illegally harvested post-mortem."

Lauren nodded she understood.

"Okay, you have your assignments," he said as he looked at the group. "Chief, would you like to add anything?"

The Chief motioned his hand that he did not, Dragona dismissed the briefing.

As they stood, Chief Prentiss came over to him. "I'd like to speak with you and Lauren privately," he said. "Let's go into your office."

Dragona motioned Lauren over, the three of them went into his office.

"I had a phone message this morning," the Chief said as he sat down. "The call came in last night; it wasn't from the Department so I ignored it. It was from Aaron Johnstone. Does the name ring any bells with you?" he asked.

Dragona shook his head no.

"Isn't he the celebrity lawyer?" Lauren asked. "The Lawyer to the Stars I think they call him."

"The one in the same. He said he represents Quentin King's business interests and Mr. King called him with concerns about how he believes the police are damaging his personal and business reputations. The lawyer's message said he and King want to meet with the person-in-charge of his client's employee's murder case as soon as possible."

Dragona bristled at what he was hearing.

"As far as I know, NYPD hasn't said King murdered Bethany Bennett if that's what he means by damaging his reputation," Dragona said. "If I were Mr. Johnstone, I would tread lightly. There's a strong possibility Quentin King may be connected to the murderer."

"Well," the Chief responded as he leaned back into the chair. "I don't want to get into a war with these guys, but I think you should talk."

"Johnstone's message said they would both be available this afternoon at King's estate in East Hampton."

Dragona looked at his watch. "Christ! With traffic, that's a two or two and a half hour drive each way from here. I can't give up a full day's investigation just to sit and hold King's hand.

"Who said you'd have to drive?" Chief Prentiss asked." NYPD has an aviation unit. There's a helipad at the airport in East Hampton. I'll make a call and you can take a chopper. I can call East Hampton PD and ask that a detective meet you when you land and drive you to King's estate."

"And Lauren," the Chief said, "I think you should go along. King might come across with information about those trips to Paris Danny mentioned. If he does, we would need Intelligence to contact our NYPD liaison officers stationed there to do any follow-up investigation for us."

Dragona looked over at Lauren. "I'm game," she said.

"Okay, Chief. You'll make the phone calls and get back to me?"

"Yes, I'll call from the car on the ride back to my office. I'll call and tell Johnstone you'll be there at one. When I have a confirmed departure time for your flight, I'll send Earl back to pick you up and take you to the Manhattan Heliport. And as I said, I'll arrange for a local detective to meet you when you arrive out there."

The plan sounded simple enough, Dragona thought. He knew sooner rather than later he needed to get some straight answers from Quentin King. The three of them walked out into the squad room where Earl Moore and Carmen appeared to be enjoying a conversation.

"They look cozy," Dragona quipped as he noticed how close Carmen was sitting next to the big man, a smile on her face.

"They have a history," the Chief said quietly and winked at Lauren.

"A history?" Dragona asked in a hushed voice."

Lauren smiled and touched his arm. "I'll explain it to you later," she softly said with a wink back at the Chief."

"Ready to go back to work, Earl? "the Chief asked.

"Ready anytime you are Chief," the big man said as he slowly rose from the chair.

Carmen stood, raised herself up on her toes, and gave him a hug before she turned and headed back to her desk.

A sharp jab in his side from Lauren's elbow surprised Dragona.

"It's not polite to stare!" she whispered before she reached out and shook Earl's huge hand and said goodbye.

Lauren and Dragona went back to his office and sat down to go over her organ trafficking file. He asked her what the Chief meant when he said Carmen and Earl had a history. She turned and looked to make sure Carmen wasn't standing in the doorway.

"I met Carmen when I was out on medical leave, we got to be friends. We were talking about guys at lunch one day when she told me she and Earl had an on-again, off-again relationship for about a year. She said he's a big man but he always treated her with respect and was really a teddy-bear inside that big body."

"Huh! Who would have thought?" Dragona said and wisely dropped the subject.

As they went through Lauren's file, she explained the organs missing from the funeral homes had been removed during autopsies conducted at the hospital. The hospital had a storage issue in their morgue, especially if there was a delay in identifying a transplant recipient. The hospital had an agreement with two local funeral homes to store the organs at their facility as a matter of convenience as well as necessity.

"So, the stored organs remained suitable for transplant?" he asked.

"That's correct, as long as they were properly stored."

"What about this case here where the girl's body washed up from the East River. Your report says she was missing her heart, lungs, and kidneys. Were they removed during an autopsy?"

"No. That's the one that worries me. The deceased was a young woman who died from a congenital brain disease."

"The hospital pathologist had obtained permission from her family to remove some brain tissue for study, no full autopsy was done. Whoever hijacked the funeral home van took her body somewhere and surgically removed her organs."

Dragona didn't know what to say. How would the hijacker have known that specific transport van was carrying that specific deceased, he wondered to himself? It strengthened his growing belief a funeral home employee was involved, and he had one in mind.

Their discussion was interrupted by a phone call from Chief Prentiss. He said he had contacted Quentin King's attorney, Aaron Johnstone, and confirmed the appointment for one o'clock. The NYPD helicopter would take off from the Downtown Manhattan Heliport at 11:45, the trip would take fifty minutes with an expected landing at 12:35. Arrangements had been made for an East Hampton officer to transport them from the airport helipad to King's estate as he had earlier mentioned. The helicopter would remain on the ground until they were finished with the meeting.

Dragona looked at his watch, this would be cutting it close. The Chief said his driver would pick Lauren and him up at eleven and bring them to the heliport. He thanked the Chief, ended the call, and explained the short timeline to Lauren.

"This is exciting!" she said, I've never flown in a helicopter before, have you?" she asked.

"Yeah, when I was in the service," he answered, not wanting to elaborate.

"Is it noisy?"

"A little bit. You've flown before?" he asked.

"Oh yeah! I've flown down to Florida a few times, but not in a helicopter. How high in the air will we be?" she asked.

"About a mile; five-thousand feet I would guess, plus or minus."

She looked at her watch. "We don't have much time, where's the ladies' room?" she asked.

"Down the hall on the right. Are you okay?"

"Oh yeah! If I'm going to join the mile-high club, I want to freshen up first," she said as she stood up and reached for her shoulder bag.

"Uh, oh! That didn't come out right, did it?" she asked with a laugh. "You know what I mean, I'll be right back."

Dragona watched as she walked out to the squad room. Freshen up? .It would be hard to improve perfection he thought to himself.

He grabbed his small leather tote attache case and went out to Carmen to get the photocopies from the club video. He added a new blank yellow legal pad and two ballpoint pens to the case before he zipped it closed. Ten minutes later Lauren returned and gathered her files.

A few minutes before eleven they took the elevator down to the lobby and waited at the Precinct's front door for the Chief's car. As they stood there, the frequent comings and goings of officers working in the building noticeably slowed to look at Lauren.as they passed, occasionally acknowledging Dragona with a "Captain," or "Sir," as an afterthought. He watched Lauren; she was obviously aware she was drawing attention but stoically stared out at the street, ignoring them.

"They're staring at you, you know," she said out of the side of her mouth and winked at him.

'Earl the Pearl' pulled up to the curb promptly at eleven. He got out, walked around the passenger side, and opened the front door. With a wide grin he said, "Ma'am," and motioned for Lauren to sit in front next to him.

"You don't mind riding in the back seat, do you Captain?" he asked as he closed Lauren's door and started to walk around the car to the driver's side.

"No, I don't mind," he answered with resignation as he opened the rear door for himself.

As they drove across town to the heliport, he found himself staring at the back of Earl's massive head. He thought about Lauren's remark Earl and Carmen had been in an on again-off-again relationship and suddenly thought about Carmen cozying up to Jerimiah at King's Court. It didn't take a genius to figure out how Carmen liked her men, he thought to himself.

As they pulled into the entrance of the heliport, Earl said when they were on the way back from the Hamptons to call the Chief fifteen minutes before they landed and he would return and drive them back to Manhattan South. He expertly weaved his way through the taxis and limousines discharging and picking up passengers until he arrived at the NYPD security post.

Two uniformed officers immediately recognized the Chief's car, they promptly opened the car doors for Lauren and Dragona and escorted them to the elevator for the ride to the rooftop.

The NYPD helicopter sat on the pad, it's engine idling, the slowly spinning rotors producing a brisk breeze. As he got out of the car, the noise and odor of aviation fuel exhaust pulled Dragona into a flashback. He froze and stared at the helicopter; he hadn't flown since he left Afghanistan years ago. He had buried the memory of that trip but the sounds and smell today resurrected it. Wounded, he had flown into McGuire Air Force Base on a C130 carrying other wounded and dead members of his Ranger unit. Lauren noticed something was wrong.

"Danny, are you all right?"" she asked loudly to be heard above the engine noise. "Danny?" she asked again when he didn't respond. She pulled hard on his arm. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah, I'm okay," he said as he slowly looked from the helicopter to her. He shook his head slightly to clear his thoughts and refocus. They walked toward the co-pilot who was standing outside the aircraft.

"You folks will ride in the rear seats," he said in a loud voice. "Just duck down as you approach the aircraft. Rotors!" he added as he pointed up at the spinning blades.

They did as they were instructed and took their seats. The co-pilot climbed into his seat, turned around, instructed them to fasten their seatbelts, and put on the cabin intercom headphones. Within a minute or two the pilot began the process of increasing the engine rpms until the rotors reached the required velocity for liftoff. As the engine noise inside the cabin became louder, Lauren reached over and took Dragona's hand in hers. Excitement was all over her face.

After a minute or two the helicopter rose vertically, slowly at first and then gently banked to the left and accelerated as it climbed.

"You folks okay back there?" the pilot asked over the intercom. Lauren immediately answered, "This is so cool!" The pilot raised his hand and gave her a thumbs up.

As they flew over the City, every minute or so Lauren would hit Dragona's arm and point to a landmark on the ground she could see from her window. Her excitement settled down as she saw they were flying over the water of Long Island Sound. Fifty minutes later they landed at the East Hampton airport.

As the pilot shut down the engine, Dragona looked out the window and saw a marked police cruiser and an unmarked car parked nearby. "That's our ride," he said to Lauren as he pointed to the cars.
**Chapter 15**

The co-pilot stepped from the aircraft and unlatched the rear compartment door, motioning for Dragona and Lauren to duck as he escorted them safely away from under the slowing rotor. He explained to them his orders were to remain on the ground until they finished their business, he and the pilot would hitch a ride with the patrol officer to a nearby coffee shop and wait there.

Local P.D. Detective A.J. Moreno approached and introduced himself.

"The Chief said you're paying a visit to Mr. King's estate. I'm your driver," he said as he motioned for them to follow him over to his car.

As they drove, he asked what case they were investigating, Dragona explained it was the murder of one of Mr. King's employees.

"I read about that in the Post," he said. "Cut her face off? Man, that's nasty," he observed.

Dragona asked if the PD had any calls to King's estate for disturbances in the past few months, the detective said they hadn't.

"Does King throw many parties?" Lauren asked.

"Well, he hosted a big one the other night; that's the only one I'm aware of in the past year or so. The Vice-President was there, we had Secret Service and the FBI all over the place. Other than that, King has his own posse of boyfriends coming and going, I suspect he parties privately with them, if you know what I mean."

"No, I don't know what you mean," Lauren said, a puzzled look on her face.

"King is gay; from what I've seen, most of his regular visitors are young guys. I've seen them in town a few times when they fly in, but mostly they keep to themselves at King's estate. His compound is one of the biggest in town, all the house staff are guys who live on the grounds and they tend to stick close to home."

"Have you had any run-ins with an Eton Boucher?" Dragona asked. "We were told he's King's life partner."

'Life partner? That's a joke! The detective said. "Boucher's the French guy, right?"

"Yeah, we heard King met him in Paris and brought him here to live with him," Dragona answered.

"I've seen him around town driving King's Porsche. He hits the bars pretty heavy. From what I've picked up from the street he throws a lot of cash around, gives the local girls the line he's rich and he flies back and forth to Europe on business. The guy's a player, I've been told."

"Anybody at the PD looking at him for, say, narcotics?" Dragona asked,

"Funny you should ask. Our narcotics guys have wondered about him and his trips to Europe on King's private jet. If you're going to smuggle in heroin or coke, that's a way to do it. In fairness though, we've had some big drug cases locally, his name hasn't come up linking him to them.'

"Where does King keep his jet?" Dragona asked.

"I think he parks it at Westchester. King regularly takes a helicopter from here when he goes into the city."

He pulled off to the side of the road opposite a tall masonry stone wall and pointed to his left after he stopped.

"That's King's compound over there."

Dragona and Lauren craned their necks to get a look at the place. 'That's not a house," Lauren said in a hushed voice. "That's a palace!"

King's estate was a massive two-story brick French mansard perched on a knoll on the shore of Long Island Sound. An ornate iron gate guarded a spotless tan colored concrete driveway that led to the front entrance.

"How do you want to play this?" Detective Moreno asked. "I'm sure you don't want me to sit in on your interview of King, and to be honest, I'm not too comfortable sitting in the driveway with King's boyfriends flitting around."

Dragona suggested Moreno give him his cell number and he'd call him to pick them up when they finished. He guessed they would be about an hour.

The detective readily agreed, gave him his number and pulled up to the gate intercom. He identified himself and announced he was with two NYPD detectives for their appointment with Mr. King. After thirty seconds, the front gate slowly and silently retracted to the left.

As the detective swung around the circular driveway, they noticed two large box trucks were parked on a driveway to the right side of the building.

Dragona and Lauren got out of the car, he saw a group of movers were loading tables and folding chairs onto the trucks. He surmised they were cleaning up after King's recent party. He noted what looked like a tarp covering the driveway where the men were working; odd he thought.

They walked up two wide marble steps, the front doors were massive, at least twelve feet high. He reached out and touched the wood, it was aged oak. He glanced up and saw a surveillance camera tucked into a corner of the entrance alcove ceiling as he reached over and rang the doorbell. From inside he could hear a faint series of chimes. A few seconds later one of the doors slowly opened.

"Good afternoon detectives. Mr. King is expecting you," the handsome young man said in greeting.

Dragona guessed him to be in his early twenties, his bright blond hair stylishly swept over his brow, clean shaven, muscular, tight jeans, a pale peach colored shirt open halfway down his chest, he looked like the all-American surfer boy in a magazine ad.

They stepped into the foyer, immediately noticing the white marble tile floor was polished to perfection.

Dragona looked down and saw the man's feet were covered with paper slippers. He looked over and noticed from the look on her face Lauren had made the same observation.

"If you please, guests to Mr. King's home are requested to respect his rule to remove their footwear," the man said as he opened the door of a nearby ornate credenza and handed Dragona and Lauren clear plastic wrapped packages containing paper slippers. Dragona noted the boy spoke with an accent, Eastern European, he thought. The boy motioned toward a wide velvet tufted bench for them to sit and remove their shoes. They looked at each other and did as they were instructed.

As Dragona reached over to hand back the wrapper, he noted the packaging wasn't labeled in English. He took a closer look before he released it; the language was French.

'It's a European product," the boy said as he took the wrapper from Lauren. "This way please," he said as they walked down a wide marble hallway that led to what looked more like a banquet hall than a living room. They followed the man to sliding glass doors across the room.

"Mr. King will see you on the patio," he explained. "May I get you a beverage?"

Dragona and Lauren declined his offer, they stepped out onto the patio. As was everything else in the house, it was massive. Polished red bricks laid in a herringbone pattern spanned an area at least fifty feet wide overlooking the water. Seated at a glass top table was a man.

"Ah, Captain Dragona! I'm Aaron Johnstone, Mr. Kings attorney, how do you do?" a man said as he approached from across the patio and extended his hand.

"And this is?" he asked as he reached for Lauren's hand.

"My partner, Detective Lauren Rocano."

"Mr. King is out on the patio," the lawyer said leading them across to the man seated at the table. As they walked, they noticed to their right three young men in bathing suits were lounging around a swimming pool. It was September, but the sun beating down on the brick patio gave warmth to the air.

As they approached the patio table, the man Dragona suspected was Quentin Kingman took off his sunglasses and raised his palm toward Lauren, his other hand balanced a half-full martini glass.

"Stop! Let me look at you," he commanded.

"High cheekbones, flawless complexion, minimal cosmetics, long legs. Have you modeled before?" the man asked.

Lauren looked over at Dragona.

"Detectives, I'd like to introduce Mr. Quentin King," the lawyer said, recognizing the awkward moment.

"I'm not here for a screen test, Mr. King. I'm here investigating a murder," Lauren said, the look on her face was all business.

"Ah, classic beauty and a diva's temperament," King said. "Please, sit," he added motioning to two chairs across the table from him.

"Captain Dragona, I must say at the onset that my client is deeply distressed by the negative publicity your investigation has brought upon his reputation and business interests," the lawyer said accusingly.

Dragona thought to himself the lawyer's comment was begging for an other than contemporary investigative technique answer. He reached into his attache portfolio and pulled out a photo.

"Mr. King, I'm deeply distressed by what I saw when I walked into Bethany Bennett's apartment the other night," he said as he slammed the photo down on the table in front of them.

The color image of Bethany's faceless body lying in the tub shocked the men, unfortunately also Lauren, who hadn't seen it before.

He had made his point; the men were horrified and quickly turned way.

"What do you want from me?" Quentin King asked in a barely audible voice. The uncontrollable shaking of his hand caused him to abandon his reach for the drink he had placed on the table.

"I have questions and I want straight answers, not a legal debate," Dragona said as he looked at the lawyer.

"Ask your questions," Attorney Aaron Johnstone meekly said.

Dragona placed another photo on the table, this one was of Bethany handing the wad of cash to Eton Boucher.

"What do you see?" he asked.

'King looked at the photo for a moment. "That's Bethany and Eton."

"And what is Bethany handing Eton?" Dragona asked.

"It looks like money," King answered." What does that...?"

"Yeah, your money Mr. King!" Dragona said interrupting. "Twenty thousand dollars of your money!"

'What?" No, you must be mistaken," King said.

"No mistake, Mr. King. Your woman Gisella Hould told me she gave Eton twenty thousand dollars at your direction.

"That can't be, there must be some kind of mistake. I never..."

"You never what?" Dragona asked raising his voice. "You never told her to give Eton any money or you never knew that's how much he was robbing from you?"

"Quentin, you don't have to answer that," Attorney Johnstone quickly said as he leaned over to King.

"Captain, I object to this..." the lawyer started to say before Dragona interrupted him. He leaned over, now almost in King's face.

"And that's the second time in a month Hould gave Eton money. You want to know how much she gave him the first time?" Dragona asked harshly.

Before King could answer he said, "Thirty thousand the first time, Mr. King! That's fifty thousand of your money Eton Boucher picked from your pocket! Is that the going rate for boy toys this month?"

"Captain Dragona! I object, Sir!!" The lawyer yelled.

"Object all you want, Mr. Johnstone. Your client has been pawning Eton Boucher off as his life partner when in truth Eton has been ripping him off to finance his gambling trips to the casinos and to pay for his high-priced hookers!"

"My God! What are you saying?" Quentin King asked in a panic.

"What my partner is saying Mr. King, is that we suspect your boy Eton may know who murdered Bethany," Lauren said in her soft voice. "And we think you brought him to this country under the appearance you were in a relationship with him when in truth you brought him here to provide you with a steady stream of young men for your own pleasure. I think Eton Boucher is pimping for you!"

"That's enough detective!" Attorney Johnstone shouted. "Quentin, don't say anything more! Not one word!"

Dragona sat there speechless, he had no idea where Lauren had come up with her theory. Quentin King sat hunched over as if he's been punched in the gut. His face was pale, perspiration formed on his forehead as he trembled."

"Sex trafficking is a Federal crime, Mr. King." Lauren purred.

"I said that's enough!" Johnstone shouted again. "We want you to leave! This interview is over!"

Dragona slowly rose from the table as he reached over and collected his photos.

"Have it your way, Counselor. We came here hoping for some cooperation to help us find who killed Bethany and why. I think we have our motive now."

"What do you mean you have your motive now?" the lawyer asked.

"Sorry, you said the interview is over. We'll see ourselves out, C'mon Lauren, let's get out of here."

Lauren rose and followed him toward the slider door. As they crossed through the living room she said, "Danny, I'm sorry if I messed you up out there."

"You didn't mess anything up, Lauren. In fact, you pressed the nerve that brought him to his knees. How the hell did you decide Eton is pimping for him?

"I didn't. I was borrowing a page from your playbook," she answered as they reached the foyer. "Those three boys by the pool gave me the idea."

"My playbook? I don't understand," he said as he ripped off his paper slippers and sat down on the bench to put his shoes on.

"You said your squad uses other than contemporary investigative techniques, I thought I'd try it and made a wild guess as to motive."

"Well, it worked; King's failure to answer your question tells me you struck a nerve. We just need to figure out if your theory is true and did Bethany know what Eton was doing."

"Are you thinking he killed her because she found him out?" she asked as she slipped her shoes on.

'That or he had someone else kill her. Despite what we learned here today I still think organ trafficking is a big piece of this case"

Dragona reached for his phone and called Detective Moreno to come and pick them up. Just as he finished, the houseboy who greeted them came into the foyer, he seemed upset and nervous.

"Open the gate and leave it open for fifteen minutes," Dragona said sternly. "We'll wait for our ride out on the street."

The young man complied without an argument.

As he and Lauren started down the driveway Dragona glanced over and saw the workers who had been loading the furniture were now rolling up the tarps they'd laid down in the driveway. It struck him that when they finished collecting each roll, they tossed it to a man standing at the rear of the truck; seemingly the material was extremely lightweight.

"Lauren, wait a minute. I want to check something out," he said as he turned to walk toward the men. Lauren slowly made her way down the driveway, occasionally looking back to see what he was doing. A few minutes later he joined her, he was carrying a small roll of the tarp.

"What are you doing? she asked. as she reached over and touched the material he was carrying.

"What is this stuff? she asked. "It's so thin but it has this tiny layer of spongy material on both sides. What on earth is this for?"

"According to the movers, this is what Mr. King insisted they put down to protect the floors and the driveway where they parked."

"He also made them wear those stupid slippers inside the house! They said he's an obsessive-compulsive germ-a-phobic pain-in-the-ass, to use a direct quote."

"They said this stuff doesn't move out of place when its laid down, it doesn't wrinkle so you can't trip on it, and the little sponges catch any debris you may drop on it and absorb anything you might spill. They said King's houseboy provided it, they'd never used it before but it worked great. Apparently its used in the moving industry in Europe."

"And so, they gave you some because, why? You're thinking of going into the moving business?" she asked.

"No, I asked them for a small section of a roll because I want to try an experiment."

"An experiment? Danny, I'm starting to worry about you," she said as Detective Moreno pulled up.

"Wow! That didn't take long," Moreno said as they got into his car.

"Everything go all right?"

"Let's just say Mr. King heard some distressing news and he needs some time to reflect on it." Dragona answered.
**Chapter 16**

The return flight to Manhattan went off without a hitch; Lauren occupied herself by taking aerial photos with her cellphone, Dragona silently stared out the window going over in his mind how he could prove Lauren's sex trafficking theory and use it against Eton Boucher. From what he could see of the three young men at Kings house they all appeared to be in their early twenties, not minors. He considered that King's lawyer would argue they were 'short-term-guests,' Proving they were being paid for providing 'personal services' seemed out of reach.

Upon landing they were met on the heliport by two NYPD uniformed officers who escorted them down to the street where Earl Moore was waiting with the Chief's car. As he drove them back to Manhattan South, he mentioned to Dragona that Chief Prentiss wanted him to call his cellphone.

Back in his office Dragona noticed Tommy Burr was the only one there, he was engrossed in some computer work. Dragona and Lauren went into his office and called the Chief, putting the phone on speaker.

"Well," the Chief started out, "I don't think NYPD will be getting any more invites to parties at Quentin King's house any time soon!"

"King's lawyer called me a little while ago, he was a wild man! Please explain to me why you accused Mr. King of sex-trafficking?"

Dragona looked over at Lauren, she had a worried look on her face. She mouthed the words "Oh Boy! Me bad!" Dragona waved off her concern.

"Chief, the topic of Eton Boucher being King's life partner came up when I mentioned he had been seen partying with female hookers at the casinos. And when I told him Eton had drained fifty grand from the club's business account in just the past month, the man fell apart. That's when it was mentioned we think Boucher is pimping young guys to him.

""Do you have any proof King is paying Boucher to provide him with his young male playthings? " the Chief asked.

"No Chief, but I think that's not what all the money's for. I think Boucher is blackmailing him."

"Blackmail?"

"Yeah. We saw three buff looking young guys lounging around a pool, but they weren't kids. If I had to guess, they were in their early twenties, and they didn't look like they were unhappy being where they were. My guess is yes, they were being paid to be there, either by King or maybe Boucher, but that's almost impossible to prove unless we could get one of them to talk."

"Any way we can ID these guys?" the Chief asked.

"I'm not sure, but I have an idea. It's a longshot though; I need some time to flesh it out."

"All right work on that. But I still don't understand where you're coming up with blackmail," the Chief argued.

"If Boucher is providing King with male prostitutes, he's doing it protected under the privacy of King's estate. Like I said, that's almost impossible to prove. But where King is most vulnerable is his business reputation. Forget who's doing the sex trafficking for a minute; how do you think the tabloids would treat him if it got out that he was involved with young male prostitutes from Europe regardless of who was bringing them in?"

"Ha! The tabloids would have a field day!" the Chief said with a laugh. "A seventy-something millionaire Broadway producer procuring young men for sex? That could ruin him."

"Exactly! And I would bet Boucher is using that as leverage to get King to give him money from the business account. But King was genuinely shocked when I told him how much money was involved, and now that he realizes that, I have a feeling Boucher's golden goose has laid its last egg."

Dragona looked over at Lauren, she was trying to stifle a laugh.

"But Danny, how does any of this tie into the girl's murder? Or does it?"

"My gut is telling me we need to focus on learning if Bethany may have stumbled across the cash withdrawals when she was working on the books with the Hould woman. Hould told us the withdrawals she made from the account weren't listed in the ledger and that Bethany was a finance major in school. She could have picked up on the discrepancy if she was watching the bottom line when reconciling checks and withdrawal slips. If Hould was telling us the truth, those withdrawal slips would be missing."

"Maybe it's time to bring in the Hould woman and lean on her," the Chief suggested.

"At some point soon, I would agree; but not just yet. We need to start tying Boucher and his undertaker buddy Mark Brock into means and opportunity to commit murder," Dragona explained. "Circumstantially, I think we're almost there with those, the motive is still sketchy."

"Flesh that out for me, Danny," the Chief requested.

"We have evidence Boucher has some form of association with a plastic surgeon in Paris. We need to know if he's a surgical assistant, a physical training therapist, or another type of clinical aide. That could link him to the evidence Bethan's face was surgically removed."

"Okay, that makes sense. I think it's time to contact our Paris liaison officers for assistance," the Chief suggested.

"I agree, but we need to caution them they can't make their inquiry directly to that doctor's clinic. That could tip Boucher off."

"Okay, what about the funeral guy? How can you link him?"

"The guys are out now doing interviews to see if he worked at any of the funeral homes that reported the missing organs. Two of the guys are doing close surveillance on him today, they haven't come back yet with their report so I don't know how that will play out. We can already link him to Bethany's apartment because he was one of the per diem morgue attendants that removed her body. That's a perfect alibi if his fingerprints or DNA were recovered at the crime scene. Also, he's one of the three guys who were overly fixated on Bethany at the club.:

"That makes sense for means. What about opportunity?" The Chief asked.

"Both guys were familiar with Bethany form King's Court. It's reasonable to believe Boucher knew where she lived because King owns the building. Mark Brock reportedly was constantly hitting on her when he was at the club, he could have followed the van that drove her home nights."

"Okay, that make's sense. What about any DNA from the clothing found in the dumpster; any results yet?"

"No match in the State database, we're waiting on the FBI database search," Dragona explained.

"And if the undertaker's DNA isn't on file anywhere to conduct a comparison, then what?"

Dragona thought for a few seconds. "Then I guess we'll have to rely on some other than traditional investigative techniques to get his DNA."

Dragona looked over at Lauren; she rolled her eyes.

"I don't think I want to know what that means," the Chief replied. "Just come up with something to give us an edge when we do bring these people in for interrogation. The clock is ticking Danny, and the Department is under a lot of pressure to make an arrest in this case. Keep me posted," he said as he ended the call.

Dragona leaned back in his office chair and rubbed the back of his neck to relieve the ache that was building. Tommy Burr knocking on the office doorframe caused him to look up.

"I'm sorry to interrupt you Captain, but Detectives Malone and Della-Rosa both called and said they're on their way in and need to speak with you. I told them you just got back into the office."

Dragona thanked Tommy and looked over at Lauren who was getting out of her chair.

"I'll call Captain Turk and ask him to authorize me to email our Paris liaison. I heard what you said about not doing anything to tip Boucher off that we're looking at him. I'll show you the email before I send it in case you want to make any changes," she said.

Dragona got up and grabbed the roll of mover's tarp he'd taken from the movers at Quentin King's house. He told Tommy Burr he was going down to the Crime Scene Unit offices in the basement for a few minutes.

When he returned twenty minutes later all his detectives were back in the office seated at the conference table. As he walked in it sounded as if they were bickering over who would speak first. He pulled up a chair at the head of the table.

"Cool it, guys. I want reports from all of you but not all at once. Carmen, you go first."

"I interviewed the last two dancers at the club," she said and looked over at Dragona. "Captain I need to tell you up front that Hould woman started with me as soon as I got there. She insisted she had the right to sit in on my interviews. Big mistake!" Her comment drew laughs from the guys.

"And can I assume you diplomatically informed her that she didn't have that right? I hope!" he asked.

"If escorting her back to her office is diplomatic, yes Sir! But, if she files a complaint that her arm got hurt during our walk, I want it on the record she's a boney old lady and it wasn't my fault." This brought a new, more-hearty round of laughter from the guys.

"Okay, okay, settle down," Dragona said to keep the briefing on track. "What did the girls say?"

"The first one, Donna Diamond, that's her real name by the way, has only been working there for three months. She said she didn't know Bethany personally."

"The second girl, Rosa Fuentis, turned out to be a wealth of information. She said she and Bethany were friends, they went out for lunch together a few times and exchanged texts regularly."

"She said three weeks ago, Beth as she called her, texted her and said Eton had threatened her when he showed up at the club office when Mrs. Hould wasn't there. Her text said Eton demanded some cash, she wouldn't give him any without Gisella. Hould's approval. She said Eton grabbed her by the arm and dragged her out to the cash register behind the bar and took a thousand dollars from it. She said Beth told Hould about what happened when she came in to work, she told Bethany to forget about it and she would speak with Eton. Rosa said Beth was deathly afraid of Eton."

"I asked her why Jerimiah didn't step in and help Beth, she said he hadn't come into work yet, and Beth made her promise she wouldn't tell him what happened because she was afraid of what he would do to Eton."

"Did Rosa give you a statement about the texts?" Dragona asked.

"No, but better than that, she saved the texts; she showed them to me on her phone."

"Get her in here! We need those texts!" Dragona instructed her. "I don't care if she's home sleeping in her pajamas or dancing on the stage at the club; get her in here immediately! I want those texts and a written statement from her."

"Carmen nodded she understood and said she'd head back over there as soon as the briefing ended.

"I don't know why you just didn't have her forward the texts to you when she was with you. I hope to hell she hasn't deleted them," he added. "All right, who's next?" he asked the group.

"Manny and I may have something, Captain," Detective Ricky Malone said.

"We parked outside Mark Brock's apartment house early this morning. He left a little after seven driving a newer Honda sedan, we ran the plate number, it's listed to him. We followed him over to a funeral home in the Bronx, Fabiola and Carpenteri over on Morris Avenue.

"Captain, that's one of the funeral homes that reported accidently cremating organs they were holding for the transplant team!" Lauren chimed in, doing her best to mask her excitement.

Everyone at the table exchanged looks acknowledging this information was a significant break in the case. Malone continued his briefing.

"He was wearing a dark suit, we figured he was working a funeral, sure enough a half hour later he pulls into a space on the street driving the flower car. A little after that about a dozen mourners showed up and went inside. for a bit. Anyway, we followed the procession over to Woodlawn on Webster avenue and they put the deceased in a vault. Brock drove the flower car back to the funeral home and left in his own car about forty-five minutes later. He drove back to his apartment, parked, and walked down the block to a corner market. I went inside to see what he was doing, he bought two bags of ice! What that was all about I don't know. Anyway, he headed home with the ice, about an hour later he headed out driving again, He stopped at two bars and it wasn't even noon yet! I went into the second one and saw he was having an animated conversation on his phone. It was a long call; I couldn't hear what he was saying but he raised his voice a couple of times. I had a beer and waited until he headed out. Ultimately, we followed him over to King's Court. I went inside and saw he was sitting at a table in the dancer section. You wouldn't believe how many guys were in that place and it was barely one in the afternoon! Anyway, after about twenty minutes I went out to sit in the car with Manny. Brock was still in the club when we left to head back here."

"All right," Dragona said. "Write up your report and give it to Tommy for the case file."

"Captain, should I go downstairs and ask to borrow one of the lockup's breathalyzers for Popeye Doyle over here?" Carmen asked. He ignored her offer.

"Paul what did you guys come up with on your surveillance on Gisella Hould?" Dragona asked Detective Burns.

"We parked outside of her condo building for a couple hours this morning. Around ten she took a cab over to First Trust Bank on Broadway. She was carrying an attache case and was in there for about an hour meeting with a guy in one of the offices off of the lobby. When she left there, she took a cab over to the club."

"We went back to the condo and spoke with the doorman, he's retired NYPD. We gave him a cover story we're doing backgrounds on the people who work at the club. He said Hould has lived there for the three years he's been working there. He said she doesn't say much when she comes and goes, his main contact with her has been to hail a cab. He said he can't recall her having any visitors, male or female."

"Okay," Dragona said, "I didn't think we were going to get much of anything on her."

"Us either, so after that we went back to the Hudson Apartments neighborhood and poked around for a couple of hours. We checked some backyards, looked into a bunch of dumpsters. We had a couple neighbors ask what we were doing, we asked if they had seen anything unusual the night of the murder, they had a lot of questions for us about how the case was going but they didn't give us anything that would help us."

"Captain, go back to what Ricky said about the funeral guy buying two bags of ice. What's with that? It's September, not July. What does he need ice for this time of year?" Detective Matt Costa asked.

Dragona looked over at Lauren and nodded for her to answer.

"Based on some information we got today it's looking more and more as if Quentin King's so-called boyfriend is involved in a scheme to steal money from him," Lauren said. "You have video of Boucher giving an envelope of money to Brock. That begs the question why? Given Brock's employment as a funeral home employee, and Eton Boucher's work with a plastic surgeon, they both fit the profile of the person or persons that murdered Bethany in the manner she was killed. I believe her face was incised so it could be sold on the black market to be used for a face transplant. If that's true, her face, and for that matter the other human organs that were harvested for transplant, would need to be kept refrigerated or kept on ice."

"If the organs were being moved out of the country for delivery to a buyer, they'd need to be kept on ice to preserve their value. I know it sounds far-fetched, but it's a theory that could tie all this together."

Dragona looked around at his detectives, they were hanging on Lauren's every word.

"Now that we've learned Brock works at a funeral home where human organs went missing, that makes Lauren's theory even stronger," Dragona said. "By the way, has anyone checked to see if Brock is a licensed mortician, or for that matter, what his educational background is?"

No one spoke up.

"Captain, I'll follow up on that myself," Lauren said.

"Okay, if no one has anything else,,,,,: Dragona said, intending to give the squad their next assignments, Tommy Burr interrupted.

"Sir? Would you like to hear my report?"

Everyone at the table turned and looked at the young detective.

"Uh, sure Tommy, sorry I left you out. What have you got?" Dragona asked.

Tommy tapped some keys on the laptop he had in front of him, the large flat screen monitor behind him on the wall came to life.

"You asked me to look into Mr. King's private jet and I told you I have a friend who works for the FAA in Albany. This is the jet," he said as a picture of the aircraft appeared on the monitor.

"It's a 2017 Gulfstream G550, registered to QK Holdings, which is owned by Quentin King. The jet is valued at around sixty million dollars, and it's based at the airport in Westchester."

"Were you able to get any info about recent flights it made, specifically to France?" Dragona asked

Tommy brought another slide up on the screen.

"I did, I was able to go back six months. The plane has made three trips to Paris, four to Los Angeles and one trip to the Cayman Islands. You can see the dates on the spreadsheet when the plane left White Plains," he said as he brought up another slide, "This is the flight plan departing Westchester and the return trip from Paris."

The young detective smiled and brought up another slide. "I got lucky. This is one of the flight manifests, it lists the air crew, passengers, and cargo being declared. I have manifests for all eight trips."

Dragona and the others stared at the slide; they were speechless.

"Tommy, this is excellent", Dragona said complementing the rookie detective. "Now that we have the names of the flight crew, we need to work up their backgrounds. Are they direct employees of King?"

"No Sir," Tommy answered," I did a little background on them already, they work for a company that provides on-demand pilot services. It's based here in Manhattan; Executive Flight Services, it's over on Hudson Boulevard, they lease a hangar at Westchester Airport.

Dragona studied the slide on the monitor. "Tommy, show me the other manifests," he said."

The directive did as he was told, it appeared all the flights he had researched were flown by the same crew.

"We've got to find these pilots and interview them,"

"Sir? I dd a little research already" Tommy Burr interjected. "The Captain is Michael Madison he lives in Brewster, the co-pilot is Russell Smith, he lives in Ridgefield, Connecticut. I ran their driver's licenses and got their home addresses; I have printouts on my desk."

"All right," Dragona said." Ricky and Manny, you pay a visit to this Executive Flight Services and track down the pilots for interviews. We need to learn what they know about any young guys and cargo they were ferrying back and forth for King; we need names if we can get them:"

"Um Sir?" Tommy interrupted again. "If you look at these manifests," he said as he brought up several slides on the monitor, "we already have their names. They're listed in the passenger section of the manifests."

Dragona smiled. Now he knew what Tommy Burr had been quietly doing at his desk in the corner of the room the past two days.

"Paul, you and Matt take a ride up to the airport in Westchester. Check in with the County police detail assigned there and find out what the protocol is for screening passengers and freight on private flights."

"Carmen, as I said before, go pick up this dancer girl, what's her name?" "Rosa Fuentis," Carmen answered.

"Yeah, Rosa. Get her and her phone in here for Tommy to download the texts she exchanged with Bethany. I also want a written statement from her. If what she's telling you is true, Boucher threatened her and that goes to motive for her murder"
**Chapter 17**

Dragona sat at his desk going through printouts of the flight manifests Tommy Burr had uncovered. He noticed six male names were listed as passengers on the flights from France to New York, but without any dates of births, there was no way of knowing why they were on the plane, other than a gut hunch Eton Boucher was supplying Quentin King with a cast of young male playmates.

He took note of the cargo section of the manifests, on one flight out of New York three months earlier, cargo listed as 'medical / surgical' supplies was listed. Could that have been harvested human organs? he wondered. He made a mental note to check with Lauren to see if the date matched up with any of the reports of missing organs.

He moved the manifests to the side of his desk and brought up on his computer the prior day's Department serious incident reports. He saw there had been no slowdown in murder and mayhem in the five days since Bethany Bennett was killed. As he was scanning through the files his train of thought was interrupted by the intercom buzzing on his desk phone.

"Sir? You have a phone call on line two from the Desk Sergeant downstairs," Tommy Burr said. "He says he needs to speak with you immediately."

Dragona thought Tommy's message was odd. When he arrived for work that morning, he had waved to Wendell Pruitt who was the day shift Desk Sergeant. Pruitt was old school NYPD. Coming up on thirty years with the Department, he had traded in walking a beat in some of the City's toughest neighborhoods for a desk job to finish out his career. The two men's friendship went back to Dragona's short career as a patrolman.

"Danny!" Sgt Pruitt said when he answered Dragona's call. "You ain't gonna believe who just walked in here. Don Giovanni Portovano himself! Christ! I thought he cashed out years ago, but from the looks of him, he's not far from meeting the Reaper. He's got a young guy with him, just a kid, but he looks like a lawyer type. Don Portovano says he needs to speak with you, that you'll know what it's about. What do you want me to do with him? Show him the street?"

"No Sarge, I'll see him. The lawyer type is probably his grandson. I'll be right down."

Dragona went down to the lobby and saw Giovanni Portovano and his grandson sitting on a time worn battle-scarred wooden bench. 'Don Giovanni' as he was known in his glory days as one of the mob's top Consiglieres, was dressed old school today. A long dark cashmere topcoat, a white silk dress shirt open at the collar, spit-polished brown Italian cordovan shoes. Despite the obvious toll his illnesses were taking on his body, he had a full head of wavy, thin grey hair. He looked every bit the role of his former persona.

"Don Giovanni, "Dragona respectfully greeted the man as he shook his frail hand.

"Detective, this is my grandson Leonardo Portovano," the old man said, his voice soft and gravelly.

"Captain, thank you for seeing us. My grandfather insisted I bring him here to talk with you. Is there somewhere private where we may speak?"

"Of course; there's an interview room just down the hall."

The old man slowly rose from the bench, his grandson gently assisting him to stand as he handed him his cane.

Giovanni slowly spoke as he looked around. "I know my last day is near when for the first time in my life I walk into a precinct house and my hands are not handcuffed behind my back!" he said with a faint grin.

As they walked across the lobby to the interview room, the old man straightened his back and raised his chin as if relishing that his presence today wasn't related to an arrest. Several young uniform officers passing through the lobby slowed and eyed the old man. Dragona was sure they didn't know who he was, but his bearing told them he was someone important.

After Giovanni got settled into a chair at the small desk, he looked at Dragona. "I told you the last time we spoke, I owed you. I am here to make good on my word."

Perplexed, Dragona didn't comment.

"I put the word out to some of my former associates for their people to watch for King's Pretty Boy," he said.

"You mean Eton Boucher?"

"Yeah, he's the one I call the Pretty Boy. My people said they found him in Atlantic City two nights ago. He was at the casino dropping a lot of cash around, and not at the tables."

"What do you mean?"

"He was with his whores; he was drunk, a big mouth. They said he was bragging he would be flying to Paris for a big business deal this weekend and he would be coming back a millionaire for one day's work. My associates' people said he was acting like a Truffatore.

Dragona had never heard the word before, his confusion must have been apparent on his face.

"Truffatore," the grandson explained. "It means con-man in Italian."

Dragona nodded his head in thanks.

'They said he was playing the big-spender, his hands all over the girls he was with," the old man continued. "He had one of his crew with him.

Leonardo, show the detective," he said as he waved his hand motioning to his grandson.

The young man reached into his shirt pocket. "My grandfather doesn't understand cellphones," he explained. "His people took some photos of the man you're interested in, he told them to send them to me. Here, take a look."

Dragona leaned over and immediately recognized Boucher's 'crew' as funeral home employee Mark Brock. The two men were pictured sitting in a booth with two young women who were obviously not the type a respectable young guy would want to bring home to meet his mother.

"Can you send me that picture?" he asked Leonardo. He gave him his cell number and the grandson complied.

"I hope that will help you," the old man said.

'It does help," Dragona answered. "Thank you. Is there anything I can do for you?"

The old man slowly shook his head, a look of sadness came over his face. "For me, no," he said softly. "Not unless you have a cure for the cancer. But maybe you can give Leonardo some advice."

Dragona looked over the grandson. "Nona Giovanni," the young man said to his grandfather; "It's not necessary. Captain Dragona has other more important things to do."

"Go ahead," the old man said waving his hands toward Dragona. "Tell him; maybe he knows some people."

"What's up Leonardo. You in some trouble?"

"No nothing like that. It's just that I'm finishing up law school and I was hoping to get a job with one of the District Attorneys' offices; they offer unpaid internships for senior law students. I've submitted a bunch of resumes but I'm afraid my family name is working against me," he said sheepishly, avoiding his grandfather's eyes.

'What are your grades like? Dragona asked.

'They're good."

"Leonardo, Sii sicuro di te stesso," the old man said.

Again, Dragona was at a loss for the meaning; he looked at Leonardo.

"My grandfather told me to show some confidence," he said with a smile. He's my biggest supporter."

"So, with confidence, tell me how your grades are."

"Good! I'll graduate with honors."

"But why the DA's office? You could probably make more in the private sector, especially if your grades are that good."

Leonardo looked over at his grandfather. "It's a family thing," he said. "A new beginning for the Portovano family name. It's my grandfather's wish."

Dragona looked over at Giovanni Portovano and studied him. He had the look of pride and satisfaction in his eyes at he watched his grandson.

"What experience to you have with criminal law?" Dragona asked Leonardo.

"I just finished a semester studying criminal procedure and rules of evidence. We studied both historical and contemporary murder cases, primarily serial killers."

Dragona gave some thought to what the young man was saying. He'd taken a chance with Tommy Burr and that was working out; he decided he'd take a chance with Leonardo Portovano.

"What are you doing tomorrow?" he asked Leonardo.

The young man looked at his grandfather. "We don't have any doctor's appointments, and I don't have any classes, so I guess nothing. Why?"

"Come back here tomorrow morning at nine, dress casual. I'll square it with the Desk Sergeant to give you a visitor pass. You know what murder case my squad is working on, you can spend the day with us to get a feel for what it's like to build a criminal case in real time. If that interests you, maybe I can set up an internship for you."

For the first time Don Giovanni Portovano had a wide grin on his face.

"Bene!" he exclaimed. "Thank You Detective!"

"No, thank You Don Portovano," Dragona responded pointing to the photo Leonardo had forwarded to him.

He walked the old man and grandson to the front door.

"Will I see you tonight at the _Festa del ' Uva?"_ Giovanni asked.

"The what?"

_" Festa del' Uva!_ The grape harvest dinner with the Rocano family!"

"Is that tonight?" Dragona asked. "How did you know about that?"

"I go every year," he said. "Giuseppe Rocano and I have been friends for many, many years."

"Thank You for reminding me, I would have forgotten."

"And disappoint that beautiful daughter? Her mother and Sofia are telling all their customers their daughter will be bringing her new fidanzato!" the old man said.

Again, Dragona looked over at Leonardo for help.

"Her boyfriend! You're a lucky man, Captain Dragona," he said with a grin." I hope we'll see you tonight."

Dragona went upstairs to his offices and found Lauren waiting for him. She had drafted an email to the NYPD liaison officers stationed in Paris asking them to do a quick background check on Eton Boucher.

"I added the names of the boys Tommy saw listed on the flight manifests and asked them to see if any of them have criminal records in France. It may be hard to do without dates of birth, but I made it clear this is a murder case and they need to try. Here, see if this is okay to send," she said as she handed him a printout of her email.

He read it over and said it was fine. She thanked him and turned to go back to her desk.

"Hey! What time does the Festa dinner start tonight?" he asked.

Lauren turned and looked at him in surprise.

"You mean the _Festa dell 'Uva?_ We start serving appetizers at six, dinner is at seven. You've been so busy I thought you'd forgotten. You know, you don't have to feel obligated to come"

"And miss out on some more of that great tomato sauce? How could I forget?"

Lauren grinned and started toward the door; she stopped midway. "Hey, by the way! We're Italian; it's not tomato sauce, it's marinara."

"Marinara, right, I'll remember that."

Twenty minutes later Carmen Della-Rosa came into the office with King's Court dancer Rosa Fuentes in tow; the young woman looked scared to death. Carmen said something to her in Spanish, she reached into her handbag and gave Carmen her cellphone.

Carmen called Tommy Burr over and introduced him. In a few minutes he had retrieved the text messages Bethany had sent Rosa and was displaying them on the wall monitor screen. Carmen called out to Dragona to look. It took less than a minute for him to realize Bethany was crying out for help because she was afraid Eton was going to hurt her.

"When you saw her texts, why didn't you say something to someone?" he asked Rosa. The angry tone of his voice added to the girl's fear.

"I,...I.., I wanted to," she stuttered, "but Bethany begged me not to. She was afraid if Jerimiah found out he would beat up Eton."

"Well, maybe if he had done that Bethany would still be alive," he said and headed toward his office. It took only seconds for his remark to reduce Rosa to tears.

A few minutes later Lauren came into his office and sat down. "You were a little hard on her, weren't you?" she asked.

Dragona looked at her for a few seconds. "Yeah. It's been a long day. I'll go out and talk with her."

"Yeah, I think you should. If you don't mind, I'd like to cut out in a few minutes and head over to the restaurant. I usually help with setting up the buffet for tonight's dinner. You're still coming, aren't you?"

"Yeah, I'll be there. Before you go, I want to show you something. Ask Tommy to come in. I want him to see this too."

When they both settled into their chairs, he explained he had a visit from Giovanni Portovano.

"Giovanni Portovano the mob boss?" Lauren asked.

"The former mob boss, yeah. He told me he knows your father from the restaurant."

"He does, both our families come from the same town in Italy."

Dragona explained the information Portovano had given him and showed them the photo his associates had taken of Eton Boucher and Mark Brock.

Lauren looked surprised; Tommy looked as if he was still trying to understand who Giovanni Portovano was.

"Intelligence from a former mob boss falls under 'other than conventional investigative methods,' I assume?" Lauren asked.

"Something like that, yeah." He handed his phone to Tommy and asked him to forward the photo to his computer so it could be viewed on the wall monitor.

"So, Boucher is saying he's set up for a million- dollar score in Paris in a few days. You realize what he might be talking about, don't you?" Lauren asked.

"Yeah. I'm betting he means he has a buyer for human organs, and the million dollars is for Bethany's face. But who's the buyer?"

He stared at Lauren; she was staring back at him. Suddenly, the expression on her face changed.

"I can't do it tonight, but first thing tomorrow morning Tommy and I can check the message boards on the dark web I've been watching. Maybe we'll find the answer there."
**Chapter 18**

Dragona had to circle the neighborhood three times looking for a parking space on 37th Street in Jackson Heights before he found a spot two blocks down from the Tuscan Maiden Restaurant. He locked his car and glanced at his watch; six twenty-five. He still had a half hour to enjoy the appetizers at Lauren's family restaurant before they served dinner; he stepped up his pace. Approaching the front door, he found the entrance foyer was crowded with guests, a rich aroma wafted out as a group ahead of him entered. Tomato, garlic and basil? Whatever, it was pulling him in.

He politely maneuvered through the crowd standing inside the door, he looked over at the bar and saw Lauren. He walked over to her and noticed she had changed from what she was wearing at work into a stunning deep maroon pantsuit and heels. He was awestruck; she looked radiant. She recognized him among the throng, walked over and gave him a long hug.

"I am so glad you decided to come," she softly whispered in his ear. She stepped back, took him by the hand and led him toward the dining room, passing in front of a long table of appetizers.

"This is quite the spread," Dragona said as they carefully maneuvered through the crowd reaching over each other to fill their plates.

"Yeah, my Mama and Aunt go all out for these festival dinners. We have salami, mortadella, and Prosciutto; Copocollo, Mozzarella, Parmesan, and Bel Paese cheese appetizers. Oh wait!" she said excusing herself and muscling her way toward the table. In a few seconds she extricated herself and handed him something on a napkin.

"You must try these" she said. "It's broccoli, garlic and ricotta on a toasted biscuit," as she brought it to his lips. It melted in his mouth as he took a bite.

Lauren guided him over to a small table for two set off from the three long dining tables that filled the center of the room between the two rows of booths.

"I reserved this table for us. It will get a little noisy when the place fills up, I thought you might appreciate privacy, such as it is," she said as he pulled out her chair for her to be seated and took his seat across from her.

As if out of nowhere two young severs appeared and set baskets of warm breadsticks, cheeses, meats and a half carafe of red wine on the table. Lauren explained the servers were two of her cousins, and that the whole family stepped in to help tonight.

Dragona poured glasses of wine for them, Lauren raised hers in a toast. "Tonight, we toast _Festa del ' Uva,_ and pledge to try and not talk about work," she said with a laugh. They touched glasses and took a sip.

They sat and sampled the appetizers, Lauren occasionally pointed out who were her relatives, some close neighbors, some regular diners.

"Oh! And we know who that is, don't we?" she asked in a whisper as she nodded toward a man being escorted to a seat by her father.

"Don Giovanni Portovano," Dragona answered in acknowledgement.

"Yeah, and Leonardo, his grandson," she added. "He brings his grandfather here every couple of weeks, he is so devoted to him; that's nice to see."

"Yeah, I met him yesterday; he's a good kid," Dragona said. "In fact, he's going to be sitting in with our squad for the next few days."

"He what?" Lauren exclaimed as she looked over at the two men.

Dragona explained Leonardo was with his grandfather earlier today and was aware of the information that he had developed on our case. Don Portovano brought up the subject his grandson was finishing up his studies for a law degree and was having trouble getting an internship with a DA. Dragona explained he wanted to give the young guy a chance to get his foot in the door.

"'Sounds like you're paying back a favor," she said.

"I am, and I make no bones about it. I see something in him that I like, he has compassion; he deserves a chance."

"To Leonardo," Lauren said as she raised her glass in a toast. "He's a lucky guy to have found you; and I'm a lucky girl." Her eyes were fixed on Dragona's, after a few seconds, they touched glasses.

A few minutes after seven they went up to the buffet table and selected their dinners. As they ate, the conversation was light, mostly about Lauren's family and how it was for her growing up working in the family business. Her mother and father stopped by the table to chat, as did a few of her cousins and aunts and uncles. Lauren joked that their ulterior motive was to check him out.

Despite the noise of the crowd and the seemingly unending assortment of food being offered, Dragona was feeling relaxed. He hadn't been out on a date in a long time, albeit this wasn't a date; but with Lauren sitting across from him he didn't care. This all felt right, he thought to himself.

The cellphone vibrating in his jacket breast pocket pulled him back to the realities of his life. He apologized to Lauren and reached for his phone. He looked down and saw it was from Chief Prentiss. Odd he thought, given the hour.

"Danny, sorry about the late hour," the Chief said, "but I want to give you a head's up. Quentin King's lawyer held a press conference defending his client from what he said were vicious rumors that King was involved in his employee Bethany Barrett's murder. The Post and News have called the Commissioner's office looking for a comment, he passed the request down to me."

Dragona didn't immediately respond.

"What the hell's that racket in the background? Where are you?" the Chief asked.

Dragona explained he was out having dinner; the restaurant was crowded and noisy.

"I can hardly hear you," the Chief said. "Where are you?"

"Chief, I'll call you back in five minutes," he answered and ended the call."

"Problem?" Lauren asked.

"It's Chief Prentiss," Dragona answered, explaining the message about King's lawyer.

"Lauren, I need to go where it's quieter and call the Chief back."

She dabbed at her lips with her napkin and stood; reaching out, she took his hand.

"C'mon, Papa has an office off the kitchen; you can call from there."

They made their way through the dining room and into the kitchen. Lauren's mother was surprised by their sudden visit and asked what was wrong.

"Nothing, Mama. Danny needs to make an important call and it's too loud in the dining room. We'll use Papa's office." Lauren explained as she hurried Dragona inside the office and closed the door.

Dragona called the Chief and apologized for the noise in the previous call. "It sounds like King is trying to cover his ass," he said. "Lauren and I never accused him of being involved in the murder."

"I'm sure you didn't, but I'm concerned with the hit we'll take in the papers when I say we don't comment on active investigations," the Chief said. "That opens the door for the tabloids to run crazy with the story. Where do we stand on the case?"

It took Dragona a few minutes to bring him up to speed, when he mentioned the information from Giovanni Portovano, the Chief interrupted him.

"Since when did you climb into bed with Don Giovanni?"

Dragona didn't expect that kind of a reaction and resisted the impulse to come back with a smart remark.

He explained Portovano had visited King's Court a few times and remembered Bethany from there. He was angry she'd been murdered and wanted to help find her killer.

"That old bull is hitting strip bars at his age? I heard he was dying; he's got to be what, in his eighties?" the Chief asked.

"He is dying, he told me it's cancer. And for him to come forward with an offer to help me, I think it was a matter of honor in his mind. He knows his days are numbered and I think he's trying to make atonement for the life he's led."

"Well, if Don Giovanni is suddenly seeing the light maybe you can ask him about the dozen or so unsolved mob hits that happened during his glory days."

Dragona ignored the comment.

"From what you've just told me, it sounds like you're close to having enough for arrests. You aren't going to let Boucher get on King's plane, are you?"

Dragona thought for a moment before he answered.

"He can try and get on that plane, but I'm not going to let it get off the ground. I think we need to bring a District Attorney into the case to help tie everything together; someone good. I could use your help with that."

"I'll give the Brooklyn DA a call first thing in the morning and set up a meeting at your office. I want to be there, so I'll make the arrangements."

"Chief, there's one more thing. Portovano has a grandson I want to help out."

"I knew it! I knew Don Giovanni wouldn't give something without expecting something in return. Atonement? My ass!"

"Chief, it's not like that; hear me out."

He explained Leonardo Portovano's educational circumstances and how he seemed determined to repair his family's tarnished name.

"I'm letting him sit in with my squad to get a feel for what he would be doing if he got a job with the DA's office."

"Christ, Danny. First it was the IT kid you took in and now it's Don Giovanni's grandson. What are you doing; running for President of the NYPD Big Brother's club? How do you know you can trust this kid?"

"Chief, when you meet this kid, I think you'll have that answer."

Dragona ended the call and looked over at Lauren. She reached out and touched his arm.

"Is everything all right?"

'Yeah, we're good. We just need to bring this case to closure in the next forty-eight hours."

"Two days? How are we going to do that.? And you said you weren't going to let King's plane get off the ground. How are you going to pull that one off?"

"I don't know yet. C'mon, I could use some desert," he said as he took her hand and stepped toward the door. She pulled him back.

"I bet you could!" she said as she leaned over and gave him a light kiss on the cheek. "Soon."

They stepped out into the kitchen, Lauren's mother and Aunt turned toward them. When they saw they were holding hands, both women nodded at each other and grinned.

"Mama! Aunt Sophia! It's not what you think!" Lauren said with a laugh and led Dragona toward the dining room.
**Chapter 19**

When Dragona arrived at his offices the next morning all the members of his squad were there having coffee.

"Coffee?" Lauren asked as she looked at him from across the room. He nodded yes, went into his office and started up his computer, went back to the squad room and motioned for the detectives to join him at the conference table. When everyone was settled, he asked for their case updates.

Ricky Malone and Manny Diaz reported they had visited the offices of Executive Flight Services and learned Quentin King had been one of their clients for the past three and a half years. They obtained a printout of the flights their pilots had made with King's jet, and a listing of the flight crews who were assigned.

"For the past year, it's been what Tommy said yesterday. The same two pilots flew all the trips," said Sgt. Diaz. "Yesterday, both of them were on their way back from Chicago flying another client's jet, they're scheduled to be off today and tomorrow."

"The operations manager told us King's assistant, Mr. Boucher, had chartered the pilots for a flight out of Westchester to Paris this coming Saturday morning at ten AM," Detective Malone added.

"Boucher is calling himself King's assistant?" Dragona asked. "Call the manager and ask how often Boucher made flight arrangements rather than someone from King's production company staff. And if that's true, see if you can get the dates of those flights."

"When you finish that give the pilots a phone call and tell them you're coming up to their homes today to speak with them. You guys know what we're looking for; see what they remember about who was on the trips, how often they had young guys boarding in Paris or flying back to Paris from New York; any passengers that looked like they were under twenty-one, any issues they had with passenger's behavior."

"Carmen, where do you stand with the dancer interviews?" he asked.

She explained she took a written statement from Rosa Fuentes and had given it to Tommy, as well as the texts on her phone from Bethany.

"Paul, any updates on your surveillance of Mark Brock?"

"Two more funerals yesterday, one at Fabiola and Carpenteri like the day before, the second in the afternoon from The Hunter Memorial over on First Avenue. In between he had a shot and beer at the bar down the street from his apartment, he had lunch at King's Court before he went to the second funeral assignment. You want us to sit on him again today?"

"Captain?" Lauren interrupted. He looked over at her and motioned for her to speak.

"The funeral van that was stolen with the body in it? That van was bringing the body to the Hunter Memorial."

Every eye at the table was on Lauren.

"That's the second location body parts went missing that we can link to Mark Brock," she said.

Before anyone could comment, the phone on Tommy Burr's desk began ringing, he got up and answered it. A moment later he told Dragona the Desk Sergeant called to say a Leonardo Portovano was downstairs.

"Who?" Paul Burns blurted out as he looked over at Dragona. Paul was the senior of the other detectives; he had been around long enough to associate the name Portovano with the mob war murders more than a decade ago.

"Tommy, do me a favor and go downstairs and bring him up," Dragona said. Looking at the others he added, "I'm expecting Chief Prentiss and a Brooklyn DA to join us; when they get here, I'll explain what this is all about."

A few minutes later Tommy and Leonardo came back, Dragona introduced Leonardo saying only he was visiting as an observer related to his law school studies. As he finished, Chief Prentiss, his driver Earl, and another man arrived.

"Good Morning ladies and gentlemen," Chief Prentiss said to the group and introduced the man with him as Jamison Parker, An assistant DA in Brooklyn." The men grabbed coffees and sat down.

"Captain, I've briefed Jamison on your case. He's been assigned to assist you with search and arrest warrants. I didn't explain the recent development you and I discussed last evening; please bring him up to speed."

Dragona told the group about the tip he received from Giovanni Portovano, calling him a 'confidential reliable source' rather than by his name. Paul Burns looked over at Leonardo with a steely look in his eyes.

Dragona took out his cell phone and found the photo Portovano's associates had taken of Boucher and Brock at the casino. He called Tommy over and handed him the phone, asking him to bring it up on the wall monitor.

"Eton Boucher and Mark Brock are the prime suspects in Bethany Bennett's murder," Dragona announced. "I believe that they both were in Bethany's apartment when she arrived home from work, that Boucher murdered her and cut off her face and that Mark Brock took it and is preserving it for sale on the black market. I say that because we believe Boucher has surgical experience from his work with a plastic surgeon at a clinic in Paris, Brock has been linked to working at two of the funeral homes that reported missing human organs here in New York."

The detectives sat at the table and exchanged looks among themselves; no one spoke. Tommy brought the photo up on the monitor.

"This is the photo the informant's associate took at the casino; Boucher on the left, Brock is on the right," Dragona explained."

"As I said, Boucher was overheard saying he was going to Paris this weekend for a business deal and would be coming back a millionaire for one day's work. We've confirmed with the flight services company that operates Quentin King's jet Boucher has chartered the plane for a flight to Paris this weekend. It's my suspicion he'll be transporting Bethany's face on that flight to complete a black-market sale."

Again, there was silence in the room as the detectives looked around at each other. After a moment Assistant District Attorney Parker spoke.

"Captain, in a general sense I get where you're going with this, but from what the Chief has told me, you don't have any physical evidence to link these two guys to the murder scene. No fingerprints, no DNA, no video from any neighborhood cameras. As it stands, I can't get you arrest warrants What you have is purely circumstantial. It does beg one question, though. If they did it, where's the girl's face now?"

Dragona thought for a moment. The man had a point.

"Our theory is her face, and for that matter the other stolen organs, would have to be in cold storage somewhere. My guess is that's where Brock comes in. The guys did surveillance on him the past two days, he was seen buying bags of ice from a bodega down the street from his apartment."

"Okay," Parker responded, "so the guy's refrigerator is broken, or he was having some people over for drinks. Buying bags of ice doesn't add up to probable cause to get a warrant to search his apartment. I'm not playing the devil's advocate here; I'm just telling you how I see it."

"I don't want a warrant for his apartment, Counsellor, I want a search warrant for King's jet, the persons of Eton Boucher and Mark Brock, their luggage, cellphones, computers, and any cargo just before it takes off Saturday morning."

Again, silence in the room. Dragona looked around and noticed Tommy Burr and Leonardo Portovano were whispering between themselves. "Something wrong guys?" he asked.

"Um..., no Sir, Captain," Tommy said with a slight tremor in his voice. "It's just that Leon, I mean Leonardo, asked what kind of ice Brock bought."

_" What kind of question is that?"_ Ricky Malone blurted out as he turned and stared at Leonardo _. "Ice cubes; you put water in a tray, throw it in the freezer and you have ice cubes."_

Lorenzo appeared shaken by Malone's confrontational tone. He looked over at Dragona as if he was pleading for some direction.

"What's your point, Leonardo?" he calmly asked the young man.

"You said you believed the woman's face needed to be preserved in a cold environment. I had the thought that dry ice might be the best method to do that," Leonardo said, his voice now steady and firm.

"Dry ice; wet ice; What does that matter? I saw him walk out with two bags that said ICE in big letters," Malone shot back.

Lorenzo looked over at Tommy and nodded.

"Detective Malone," Tommy said, "you're right; ice is frozen water, and when it melts it leaves a liquid residue. Dry ice is made from carbon dioxide gas. It's made by injecting liquid carbon dioxide into a block press or pelletizer. The production machines have chambers in them that convert the liquid carbon dioxide into dry ice. Dry ice doesn't melt, it dissipates over time through a process called sublimation. Instead of reducing to a liquid it reduces to a gas. There's essentially no residue."

It was Detective Malone's turn to look stunned, the others at the table had looks of amazement on their faces.

"How the hell do you know all this?" he asked Tommy.

The now familiar blush started to form again on Tommy's cheeks. "When I was in college, I obtained a second degree in forensics. We studied the preservation of human and animal tissues. Dry ice is often used for that."

"Detective, you said the bags you saw had the word ice printed on them. Were they clear plastic bags? Leonardo asked.

_" What? Hell, they were bags! Grey paper bags! The word ICE was in big blue letters,"_ Malone responded heatedly _. "Why?"_

"Stores almost always sell bagged ice in clear plastic bags. Dry ice, when you can find it, is packaged in thick paper bags, sort of like what a butcher shop would use to wrap meat, only thicker." Leonardo explained.

Sergeant Manny Diaz looked over at his partner.

"Popeye! He's right! I saw the bags; they weren't clear plastic."

"I want you and Manny to go back to that bodega and see if they sell dry ice. And you can take Tommy and Leonardo with you," Dragona instructed Detective Malone.

_" What?"_ Malone asked.

"You heard me. Take Tommy and Leonardo with you. After you check the store, I want you to go to Brock's apartment building. See if you can get inside and discretely find out what his apartment number is and where it's located. Tommy, take a photo of the building for me and write down a description of it. We're going to need that."

Detectives Malone and Diaz looked surprised.

"We'll need that for a search warrant, "Dragona explained. "Now hit the bricks and get back here as soon as you're done."

"C'mon college boys, let's go," Malone grumbled at the two young men as he stood up.

"Captain, if this is true Brock bought dry ice, that changes my thinking on how to tie all this together," Assistant DA Jamison Parker said. "What could nail it down would be if we could confirm Brock was going to Paris with this Boucher guy."

Dragona looked over at detectives Paul Burns and Matt Costa.

"Guys, you didn't fill us in on your assignment to check out the Westchester airport."

"We went there like you told us, Boss," Costa said. "We met up with the County Sheriff's security detail at their post in front of the main terminal. From what they told us, the Transportation Safety Administration handles all commercial passenger screenings, but not the private planes."

"They were familiar with Quentin King, he's a frequent traveler and usually flies out with a group of Hollywood types they assumed were from his production staff. The Deputy said they always arrive in two limos, and head over to one of the private terminals.

"So essentially, if I owned a business jet and kept it there, when I left to go on a trip no one would check what I was taking with me?" Dragona asked.

"That's how we see it Captain. Of course, that begs the question of what happens when you fly into a foreign country. I'd guess you'd be stopped and at least asked for your passport."

Dragona thought about that. A passport is one thing, but a baggage search was another. He needed an answer.

"Okay, I want you guys to take another trip up to Westchester. See if King's jet is there. Ask the Sheriffs to help you get an answer from the TSA Supervisor on how they handle checks of business jets arriving from foreign countries. Also, I don't know how you could do this, but try and find out if the charter pilot company has filed a flight plan for King's jet this weekend."

The detectives nodded their understanding and headed out.

The persistent buzzing of the office phone on Tommy's desk caught Dragona's attention.

"I'll get it, "Carmen said. After a short conversation she called out, "Captain?"

"That was the crime scene unit Lieutenant downstairs, He wants you to come down to show you something about the tarp you submitted for examination." She spread her hands as if to ask, "What tarp?"

Dragona looked over at Lauren.

"I want to speak with the Chief and Mr. Parker. Why don't you ladies go down and see what he wants. He's talking about the tarp I grabbed from King's house."

"Okay," Lauren said with a smile as she stood up and headed for the door.

Chief Prentiss looked around the room. "Seems like you have a shortage of detectives at the moment," he said.

He motioned for Earl Moore to join them, the big man picked up his chair and brought it over to the conference table. He slowly settled his large frame into the chair and grinned. It creaked but didn't collapse.

"Now that we can talk privately, what's this about a tarp?"

Dragona reminded the Chief that at the crime scene they were baffled to explain why, except for the kitchen and bathroom where Bethany Bennett's body was found, there was no trace of blood stains anywhere else in her small apartment. He told the men that when he and Lauren were at Quentin King's house, they noticed movers using tarps to protect the floors and driveway. The movers said the tarps absorbed spills.

"What caught my eye was how thin and lightweight the tarps were. I asked the movers for a sample and they gave me one," Dragona explained.

"So, you think Boucher and Brock went to all that trouble to lay down tarps in the girl's apartment before she got home? That's an off the wall assumption," the Chief said shaking his head in dispute of the theory.

"Chief, it's not that far-fetched when you think about it. If we're right, these guys dressed in disposable surgical garb and brought surgical instruments to excise her face; that tells us they were meticulous in their planning. The movers told me that King's house staff supplied the tarps for them to use, as I said, they're incredibly thin and lightweight. I think it's reasonable to believe the killers laid the tarp down to mask their tracks and took it with them when they went down the fire escape. That would explain why we didn't find any traces of Bethany's blood other than in the kitchen and bathroom."

_" Jesus!"_ Jamison Parker remarked as he leaned back in his chair. "What the hell kind of case is this? Surgical garb? Tarps? No trace evidence at the scene?"

Before Dragona could respond Lauren and Carmen came through the door, Carmen was holding a document in her hand. She came over to the table and set it down in front of Dragona. He looked at it and at first thought it was a heart rhythm pattern from a heart monitor machine.

"What is this?" he asked as he looked up at the two women.

"Your tarp caused some excitement with our crime scene friends," Lauren said. "The Lieutenant said they tested it and were amazed how it absorbed spills, especially blood. What intrigued them even more was what adhesive was in it that allowed it to lay flat and not wrinkle or move when they walked in it. They decided to visit the forensic lab."

"And?" Dragona asked when Lauren paused for a few seconds.

"And, they put a small piece of the tarp under a mass spectrometer. What you have in front of you is the fingerprint or signature so to speak of the chemical compounds in the adhesive on the bottom of the tarp. They weren't able to come up with an exact match to any adhesive compound in their database, so they think it's a proprietary compound."

"And this helps us how?" Dragona said as he picked up the printout and studied it.

"The Lieutenant told us they took the exam one step further and after they peeled the tarp up from a sample piece of laminate flooring they'd laid it on; they swabbed the residue left on the flooring and ran that through the spectrometer," Carmen explained.

"It was a perfect match with the analysis of the tarp," Lauren said.

Dragona thought about what she was saying. He looked over at the Chief and Jamison Parker

"Has the murder scene been cleaned up?" Parker asked.

"We don't know that," Dragona answered.

"Let's find that out," Parker said. "If by some miracle no one's been in there and hasn't cleaned it, I think I can get you a search warrant for the crime scene techs to go in and take sample swabs from the floor. If they find evidence of the tarp residue and it matches a control sample, that's huge."

"That would tie it back to Quentin King's house where Boucher lives," Dragona said.

"It looks like it's coming together," Chief Prentiss said. "I was worried there for a bit, but if Jamison can get you a search warrant for the girl's apartment, I'll make a call to the Forensic unit to do an immediate analysis for you."

"Carmen, you and Lauren head over to Hudson Street and check out Bethany's apartment. Check with the Super to see if anyone's been in there since you and I were there the other night. If not, make sure he knows to not let anyone in and to call us if anyone tries to go in."

Carmen motioned for Lauren to come with her, as she turned toward the door Dragona stopped her.

"And Carmen, please, and I mean this, please take it easy on the Super. You might want to let Lauren do the talking. We don't need a repeat of the other night."

Carmen shrugged her shoulders.

"The other night? Was there a problem?" Chief Prentiss asked.

"No, just a slight language barrier issue, Chief," Carmen answered. "It worked out," she added. Dragona caught her wink at Earl the Pearl who grinned, the two women headed out the door.

"I think I don't want to know about the other night," the Chief said as he stood up from his chair and looked over at his driver. Earl's grin became wider.

"C'mon Earl, we have work to do," the Chief said. "Danny, keep me posted." The two men left, Dragona looked over and saw ADA Parker appeared to be in a serious conversation on the phone. He went into his office and sank down into his chair. For the moment, it was quiet in the offices of the Violent Crimes Unit.
**Chapter 20**

Shortly after noon, Detective Malone, Sgt. Diaz and the two young men returned from their assignment. Tommy Burr sat down at his desk; Leonardo pulled up a chair next to him. Malone and Diaz joined Dragona and the Assistant D.A. Parker. at the conference table.

"They were right," Malone said motioning with his head over at Tommy and Leonardo. "It was dry ice. The clerk said Brock has been buying a few bags a couple times a week for the past three months."

Dragona looked over at Parker, his keen interest was obvious from the look on his face.

"Do you think the clerk can be trusted not to tip off Brock that we're looking at him?" Dragona asked.

"Oh yeah!" Malone answered, Sgt. Diaz nodded his head in agreement. "The clerk said Brock comes into the place acting as if he's some Mob bigshot and bitches about the cost of the ice. The clerk had nothing good to say about him."

"What did you find out about the apartment?"

Sgt. Diaz motioned for Tommy to answer the question, he nodded and pointed at the wall monitor.

"This is a photo of the apartment building. Brock's unit is on the third floor, apartment 3-B," he said.

Dragona stared at the photo.

"What are you thinking?" ADA Parker asked him.

"My gut is telling me Brock has the body parts in storage at his apartment. We have enough for a search warrant for his place; he had access to the missing organ donor body parts and that fits in, but it's Bethany Bennett's murderer I want, and I think that's Eton Boucher, not Brock."

"So, your plan still is to stake out King's jet and grab him as he boards it?" Parker asked.

"Exactly; that's why I need a search warrant for the plane."

"I don't think you have probable cause for that at this point, but if your detectives come back and say they've got evidence both Brock and Boucher are booked onto the flight, that will tie it all together. I could get a warrant with that," Parker explained. "I know this will sound like an off-the-wall question, but do you think Quentin King is involved in any of this?"

"I don't see that," Dragona responded. "At first I thought he was bringing in underage boys for sex but there's no evidence of that. It looks like he's involved in consensual adult relationships in the privacy of his home. That's not a crime. And from what I've learned, it sounds like Bethany Bennett had a future in management at his club. I doubt he would do anything to harm his business interests."

"Okay then, if I'm going to be putting together warrants for you, I'll need a copy of the case report to give me the background facts on all the players," Parker. said.

"Uh, Captain?" Tommy Burr interjected. "I've been collecting the detectives' investigation reports as you instructed and created a case report from them. I can print that out for Mr. Parker."

As Parker worked with Tommy and Leonardo to put together the search warrant applications, Dragona spent the next two hours at his desk going over the latest major crime reports from precincts across the city; it was obvious there was no shortage of work for the Department's detectives. The intercom buzzing on his desk phone interrupted his concentration. He answered, it was Detective Matt Costa.

"Captain, we're on our way back from White Plains but we're stuck in traffic, must be an accident up ahead. We're going to be a while getting back to the office but I want to fill you in on what we learned at the airport," he explained.

"We spoke with the TSA Supervisor and believe it or not as a matter of practice they don't routinely search baggage from business jets. I asked specifically if he was familiar with Quentin King's jet, he said he was from the daily schedule of outgoing flights he gets from the Tower. He said he couldn't recall any searches of the plane or its passengers. He added that the business jets board passengers at the several private terminals based at the airport, he checked and confirmed King's jet is currently parked at Broadway Aviation's hangers at the southern end of the field."

"What about a flight plan? Any luck with that?" Dragona asked.

"Yeah, I was coming to that. The Supervisor checked Flight Operations for us, so far nothing's been filed. He said that's not unusual, the charter companies usually file their manifests a few hours before the flight leaves."

"Damn, so we don't have any documentation Boucher is flying out as he was bragging at the casino," Dragona said dejectedly.

"I'm afraid that's correct, Boss."

"All right, you guys get back here as soon as you can. We'll figure something out," Dragona said and ended the call. He sank back into his office chair. So close, but not close enough, he thought to himself.

After a few minutes he saw Carmen and Lauren come into the squad room.

"We got lucky!" Carmen said. No one's been in Bethany's apartment. The Super removed the crime scene tape and posted a Do Not Enter notice in English and Spanish on the door."

"Any problems with the Super?" Dragona asked as he crossed from his office to the conference table.

"Um...no," Lauren said, as she set her shoulder bag down on her desk.

Dragona gave her a long look, then shifted his gaze to Carmen.

"Nothing happened, I swear!" Carmen said in defense of herself.

"All right then," Assistant DA Parker said. "At least we're a go to get a warrant for the Crime Scene techs to take swabs from the floor. We've got the narrative of the warrant application drawn up; Captain, I'd like you and Lauren to be the affiants on it. She has the organ trafficking case for Intelligence, that will carry a lot of weight when the judge reviews the application."

Dragona nodded his head in agreement; Lauren answered, "Fine."

"Great!" Parker said." I just need to call my boss and ask him what Judge he recommends we use."

Dragona looked over at Carmen again. She didn't speak, she made the sign of the cross and raised her hand as if swearing an oath. He didn't pursue how things had gone with the Super.

Lauren sat down and logged into her computer. A few moments later she called out; "Danny! I mean Captain! You need to see this."

He went over to her desk as she got up and retrieved a document from the printer.

"It's a response to the email I sent to our Paris liaison detectives," she said as she handed him the document. Dragona studied it.

The detectives had confirmed Eton Boucher was formerly employed by Dr, Antoine Dupuis as a surgical assistant. They had researched the doctor's clinic and learned of late he was heavily involved in charity reconstructive surgery for civilian victims of the various conflicts in the Middle East.

They also uncovered a recent Interpol intelligence report that was tracking the movements of foreign nationals entering Europe.

Although names were redacted, it reported two wives of an ultra-wealthy Arab Prince were severely disfigured in a bombing incident and currently were being treated at Dupuis' Paris clinic.

Dragona looked up at Lauren.

"That ties this all together, doesn't it?" she softly asked.

Dragona didn't answer, rather he called Jamison Parker over. The look on the man's face registered his displeasure his warrant work was being interrupted. Dragona handed him the document.

Parker slowly read the report. When he finished, he looked up at Dragona and Lauren.

"Did you expect this? he asked.

"We played a hunch," Dragona answered. "Now I'd like you to draw up that search warrant application for King's jet."

Parker bit his lip and didn't speak for a few moments.

"All right, I'll do a warrant application for the jet. But I'll need its descriptive information; make, model, year, registration number, who owns it."

"Okay, tell Tommy what you need, he'll help you," Dragona said." How long before we can head out to find a judge?"

Parker looked at his watch. "Look, it's getting late. We've finished the warrant for the victim's apartment, why don't I draw up applications for the jet and this Brock guys apartment using the same case description narrative. Let's get it done in one shot rather than bothering the judge two or three times. That should take me another hour, hour and a half at most."

"I'm all for that if you think that's best," Dragona agreed. He thought about suggesting Parker also draw up a warrant for Quentin King's estate but decided against it. In the back of his mind he knew he had to link the house where Eton Boucher lived with the tarp the movers said the house staff had provided them, but that additional work might push Assistant DA Parker over the edge. Dragona went back into his office, sat down behind his desk and stared out the window.

After a while, a commotion in the squad room caught his attention, he went out to see what it was. He found his detectives had chipped in and ordered pizzas and soda to make up for the lunch everyone had missed.

ADA Parker took a break from his warrant work and joined the group at the table to eat.

At first the conversation was light banter, after a while it turned to the case and how it was going to proceed now that search warrants were in play. Dragona decided the time was right to explain his plan.

Assuming the search warrants would be issued late this afternoon they would first obtain the floor swabs from Bethany's apartment.

His thinking was that would only require one crime scene tech to do the work, two detectives to control the scene in case the neighbors became curious.

Next, he wanted tight surveillance done on Mark Brock.

"Today is Thursday; Boucher said he's flying to Paris Saturday morning. If my hunch is right, he's going to meet up with Brock at some point to take possession of the body parts we think he's selling. I wish we could have confirmed Brock was listed on the flight passenger manifest, but it hasn't been filed yet. At any rate, we need to sit on Brock unless something changes."

"Captain?" Lauren interjected. "No disrespect, but aren't you putting all our eggs on one basket?"

Dragona looked over at her; surprised she was speaking up. The others at the table apparently shared his sentiment as they glanced at each other before turning toward her.

"What do you mean?"

"From listening to the conversation about Brock buying the dry ice, and knowing we can show he has ties to the two funeral homes that reported missing organs, together with his obsession with Bethany from the club and his connection to Boucher through the photo of him giving him money, don't we have more than enough probable cause to search his place first?" she asked. "I mean, if we caught him in possession of the missing body parts, we'd have him cold. He'd have to give up Boucher once that happens, don't you think?"

Dragona gave what she was saying some quick thought. She was right of course; there was probable cause.

But Dragona believed it was Boucher who had the surgical skills background and murdered the girl, not Brock. What if Brock lawyered up and refused to give up Boucher?

At this point they had nothing more than circumstantial evidence to link Boucher to the murder. Guilt by association with the person in possession of the body parts probably wouldn't convince a jury beyond a reasonable doubt that he had killed the girl.

Detective Matt Costa added his thoughts. "Captain, I think Lauren has a good point, and I have some concerns with the plan to take swabs from the apartment floor."

"What about the swabs?" Dragona asked.

"A lot of people traipsed through that crime scene," Costa explained. "If you're right they used a tarp to keep the blood off their escape route, don't you think any residue from the tarp adhesive would have been destroyed by the guys walking on it?"

"Absolutely, that's a possibility," Dragona answered, "but right now that tarp is the strongest link we'd have to Boucher. I'm thinking we get a few control swabs from the center of the living room and concentrate on the evidence swabs just in front of the fire escape window. My guess is that's where we have the greatest chance of finding residue."

"Still a long shot, Captain," Costa responded.

"Agreed, but now you know what I'm thinking," Dragona said. "I want you and Carmen to execute the warrant when we get it. I'll call the Crime Scene Unit and tell them how I want the search done; you guys just make sure they understand my instructions."

Costa looked over at Carmen. They hadn't worked together before, in the back of his mind he wondered if he could keep a lid on her temper if things went awry. Carmen noticed his look and smiled.

"Don't worry, I won't hit anybody," she said as if she was reading his mind.

"Hey Captain! If this guy Boucher is our target, do we even know where he is right now?" Detective Paul Burns asked.

That was a question Dragona had privately been asking himself. If Boucher had returned home to King's estate, assuredly King would have confronted him about being visited by the police. He thought if he was right about Boucher killing Bethany, what would he do to King if his gravy train of cash from the club was brought to a halt?

"I don't know where Boucher is," Dragona admitted. Burns threw his hands up into the air in frustration.

"Captain, no offense, but that's a big problem. We need to find Boucher and sit on him."

"No offense taken, Paul," Dragona said. "You're right, and I just got an idea."

All eyes of the group were fixed on him, but Dragona didn't elaborate.

"If you guys are finished eating, let's clean this up and get back to work," he said." Leonardo, come on into my office; I need your help."

Dragona went into his office, Leonardo sat down in the chair in front of the desk, He looked nervous.

"Well, what do you think after your first day with the squad?" Dragona asked.

"I think I've learned more today than I did the last six months sitting in lecture halls. I never realized how much effort goes into putting a case together, it's more involved than just making the arrest."

"Good, that was the point of having you sit in with us. Both of us, the police, the District Attorney, we own the case together. Now switch gears; I need to talk with your grandfather."

Lorenzo looked as if he didn't understand.

"I need certain information that I don't have the means to acquire, but I believe he does."

"I'm not following you, Sir."

"Just get him on the phone for me. I doubt he'll answer if he sees a call coming in that he doesn't recognize."

"Uh...., my grandfather doesn't have a cell phone, he still uses his house phone."

"Okay, then how does he know it's you when you call him?"

'Um..., maybe I shouldn't say this but, our family uses a code system when we call him."

Lorenzo took his phone out of his pocket and dialed a number, after a few seconds he ended the call and dialed again. After a few seconds he ended that call and dialed a third time. Dragona stared at the young man.

"First call, two rings then hang up, second call four rings and hang up. My grandfather will pick up after four rings of the third call," Leonardo explained.

Dragona couldn't help but smile. After all these years, Don Giovanni was still cautious about whom he spoke with on the phone.

"Nona Giovanni, it's Leonardo. I'm with Captain Dragona; he wants to speak with you," the young man said before he handed Dragona the phone.

"Don Giovanni, thank you for taking my call," Dragona respectfully greeted him." I need some assistance in locating Eton Boucher. I need to know if he's still in Atlantic City or maybe at the Connecticut casinos."

There was a long moment of silence on the other end. "I will make some calls," came the blunt reply, then the phone went dead. Dragona handed the phone back to Leonardo and thanked him.

"Captain, sorry to intrude. Do you have a minute?" Assistant DA Parker asked as he stood in the doorway.

Dragona nodded yes, thanked Leonardo again and asked him to excuse himself.

"What's up, Counsellor?" Dragona asked as the man settled into the office chair.

"I called my boss, he said he'll have Judge Ferarro available to us at four-thirty. I just wanted to give you a heads up I'll need both Lauren and you to go with me to get the warrants signed."

Dragona glanced at his watch. "Okay, we can do that. Anything else?"

The lawyer looked down for a second." Yes, as a matter of fact, there is. My boss got a phone call from Quentin King's lawyer."

"And?"

"And, he said his client wants to file a criminal complaint against Eton Boucher and Gisella Hould."

"A criminal complaint, for what?" Dragona asked incredulously.

"Extortion," the lawyer responded.

"What?" Dragona exclaimed.

"The lawyer said Boucher threatened unless King pays him and Hould one million dollars each, they'll go the newspapers with the story he's a serial pedophile."

Dragona was floored by this news. Boucher extorting King he could understand, but Gisella Hould?

"According to the lawyer, it's a family matter. He said Hould is Boucher's mother," Parker explained.

_" What?"_ Dragona asked; this time he was almost shouting.

"If Gisella Hould is his mother, then who's his father?" Dragona asked.

Assistant DA Parker didn't answer.

"Wait a minute," Dragona said. "You aren't going to tell me Eton Boucher's father is Quentin King, are you?"

Parker looked Dragona in the eyes. "King's lawyer didn't say that, but he did say the extortion was a family matter. Draw your own conclusion."

"Sweet Jesus," Dragona said as he leaned back into his office chair." I don't believe this."

"I'm afraid this is going to get worse for you," Parker said. "My boss said since these people are involved in your murder case, he wants you to also handle the extortion complaint. He thinks the two may be related."

"What?" Dragona asked; this time he yelled.

Suddenly Lauren appeared in the office doorway.

"Is everything all right?" she asked; worry was written all over her face. Dragona looked at her.

"Yeah, c'mon in and close the door," he said. Lauren sat down and he explained the news from Parker about the extortion complaint. She gave Dragona a long look.

"Then, if Hould is Boucher's mother, who is his father?" she asked.

'That's the million-dollar question. It has to be Quentin King for any of this to make sense."

_" Great!"_ she remarked as she shook her head in disbelief. "So now what do we do?"

"First, we find out where Eton is until he makes his move to the airport. Second, I need to hear from King himself exactly how he learned about the extortion demand."

"How do you plan on doing that?" Lauren asked. "Our last visit to him didn't exactly leave the door open for us to return."

Dragona thought for a moment before he turned to Jamison Parker.

"Can you call your boss and see if he has a contact phone number for King's lawyer?"

Parker reached into his pocket, pulled out his phone and called his office. After exchanging a few words with the person on the other end he handed the phone to Dragona. It's my boss, Orlando Perez," he said.

Dragona told the District Attorney that Parker had informed him of King's extortion complaint he understood how it could be connected to the murder investigation.

"I need to speak directly with Mr. King's lawyer; can you help me with that?" he asked.

"Yes, I can do that, in fact I expect to be hearing from him shortly," Perez answered. "He said his office took a sworn statement of complaint from King and he would have a courier deliver it to me this afternoon. Why don't we wait to call the lawyer until after we review the statement?"

Dragona agreed that was a smart decision, Attorney Perez changed the subject and mentioned Jamison Parker had brought him up to speed on the murder investigation.

"Jamison told me you believe Eton Boucher murdered the Bennett girl. I don't have to tell you how sensational a case this is. If you're right and have enough to arrest him, I urge you to do it sooner rather than later," Perez said.

Dragona explained the case appeared to be intertwined with a harvested organ trafficking scheme and his plan was not to make any arrests until he had enough evidence to convict for both crimes.

"Look, I understand your unit is a new one,' Perez said, "and Chief Prentiss has a lot at stake professionally to make it successful. With that said, I'm familiar with your work, Captain, and I trust you. It's been a week since the Bennett girl's murder. If you can close the case with an arrest in the next few days that will be huge not only for NYPD but also my office. Please keep Jamison posted on anything you may need from us," he said and ended the call.

Dragona looked over at Parker and Lauren. "Who's left in the office" he asked.

"Manny, Paul, Tommy and Leonardo," Lauren answered.

Okay, c'mon," he said as he stood up. "Let's start putting this case to bed." He motioned them to follow him onto the squad room, he called the men over to the conference table. He filled them in on the new development of King's extortion complaint. They looked shocked when they were told Gisella Hould was Boucher's mother.

_" You've got to be kidding me!"_ Paul Burns blurted out as he threw his hands into the air. _" What the hell kind of case is this?"_ he asked in an exasperated tone. He sat in his chair slowly shaking his head back and forth. Suddenly he stopped and stared at Dragona.

"Wait a minute; if this Hould broad is Boucher's mother, who the hell is his father?" he asked.

Dragona looked over at Lauren.

"Take a wild guess," she said.

It only took a few seconds for Detective Paul Burns to explode. He suddenly stood up and stormed halfway across the room.

_" No! No! This is a murder case, not some God Damn soap opera! Quentin King? The elder statesman of Broadway and Hollywood? I don't believe any of this,"_ he said, his arms flapping wildly.

_" This is bullshit, Captain! What are we waiting for? Let's drag the whole lot of them in now and sweat them like the old days. Give me ten minutes with them. I guarantee you they'll fold their circus tent in a heartbeat!"_

"Take it easy, sit down Paul," Dragona said calmly. "We don't know for sure who Boucher's father is, were just assuming that it's King."

"Well if you ask me, you don't have to be a brain surgeon to figure this one out. What are we waiting for?" he asked again.

"Paul, it's all starting to fall into place. You need to be patient; we're too close to solving the murder to screw things up because of the distraction of this extortion claim."

"I want you to head over to Hould's condo building and discretely poke around to see if there's any chance Boucher may be staying at her place."

Street surveillance wasn't the detective's hallmark skill like Ricky Malone's, but he took the bait and calmed down. He sat for a few minutes, his breathing slowed, the redness in his cheeks dissipated.

"All right, I'll do it," he said as he stood and went across the room to collect his jacket and cap. "I still think we should just drag them all in here, but you're the boss," he said as he headed out the door.

Dragona looked over at Tommy and Leonardo, they looked like two kids sitting in the principal's office in grade school; hands in their laps, not sure where to look.

"And that guys, is what can happen under stress when you investigate violent crimes," Dragona said with a smile. "Tommy, how would you and Leonardo like to take a stab at putting together an initial case report on this extortion claim?"

"Are you serious?" Tommy asked. "I mean, yeah, we can try." He looked over at Leonardo. "But we need the details of the complaint"

Dragona explained the Brooklyn District Attorney expected to have a statement from Quentin King this afternoon and would forward it to Violent Crimes. "Lorenzo, this will be a good exercise for you to use your legal skills. Are you in?"

"Absolutely, Sir," the young man quickly responded.

"Good!" Changing the subject, Dragona looked over at ADA Parker.

"Where do we stand with your search warrant affidavits?" he asked.

"The search of the apartment, the jet and Brock's apartment are finished; I just need Tommy to print them out. He glanced at his watch.

"If we're going to make our four-thirty appointment with Judge Ferarro we need to leave in the next fifteen minutes to account for traffic."

Tommy printed the affidavits; Lauren collected her belongings. She would ride with Dragona in his car, ADA Parker would take his own. They took the elevator down to the underground garage. As they walked past the exit to the street Dragona noticed traffic was heavy but moving.

"You okay?" Lauren asked as they settled into the car.

"Yeah, I just want this case over," he said as he drove out the exit.
**Chapter 21**

Getting the search warrants signed went easier than Dragona had expected. All the proceedings had ended for the day, the courthouse was nearly empty except for a few small groups of lawyers talking with their clients, Judge Ferarro was patiently waiting for them in his chambers.

The Judge had only a few questions, Dragona was able to respond to his satisfaction. As it turned out, having Lauren there as a co-affiant and subject matter expert on the organ trafficking case had an extra benefit; Judge Ferarro couldn't keep his eyes off her. To her credit, she maintained her poise despite what she imagined was running through the man's mind. The whole process took less than fifteen minutes.

They walked down to the lobby, Dragona and Lauren thanked ADA Parker for his help and they headed out.

After they got into Dragona's car Lauren looked at her watch.

"Hungry?" she asked,

Dragona answered he was and asked if she wanted him to stop and pick something up.

"I was just thinking we're in Brooklyn, why don't we shoot over to Jackson Heights and have an early dinner at my parent's restaurant?" she asked.

The thought of another home cooked Italian dinner was a no-brainer.

"Sure, rush hour traffic is starting to get heavy though; it's only ten miles from here but it might take forty-five minutes or so to get there. You okay with that?" he asked.

"Yeah, I think we both need a break, don't you?" she asked as she reached over and rubbed his forearm. Her touch was gentle,

"Easy boy," he thought to himself; "this isn't a date."

The drive took a little longer than Dragona had anticipated, the aggravation of rush hour traffic was assuaged by his luck to find a parking space near the restaurant's front door. He locked his portfolio containing the search warrants in the trunk, hand in hand he and Lauren entered the Tuscan Maiden.

Immediately her father raised his arms in surprise at their appearance. The restaurant wasn't busy, three of the neighborhood regulars were sitting at the small bar watching a soccer game on the TV, their reactions to the play by play action were a mix of Italian and English commentary.

As if out of nowhere, Lauren's mother appeared wearing her full-length apron, relatively stain free before the dinner rush in the kitchen would memorialize her toil in front of the stove and ovens.

_" Non fanno una bella coppia?"_ her mother cried out in Italian as she embraced them both. Dragona didn't know the meaning of the words but he suspected they had something to do with welcome. Lauren led him into the dining room to the same booth they had shared on their last visit. Her cousin Angelina approached the table a few minutes later with their menus, a bottle of wine and two glasses.

"Your father said he thinks you'll enjoy this," she said as she filled the glasses. "I'll be back in a few minutes to take your order," she added and winked at Lauren.

Lauren raised her glass in a toast. "To us, may our case come to a successful end this weekend," she said clinking her glass against his.

He took a sip of the wine, set the glass down and looked at the menu.

After a few minutes Lauren reached over and tapped his arm. "Hey, why so quiet? Is something wrong?"

He assured her he was fine, closed the menu and moved it off to the side. The beeping of the cellphone in his pocket changed the subject.

He answered, it was Leonardo Portovano who said his grandfather wanted to speak with him. A few seconds later the old man came onto the phone.

'Your Pretty Boy is holed up in a room with a prostitute at the Rock Castle in Atlantic City. My associates say he had a big win at blackjack last night, he's flush with cash. Watch your back," he said in a low gravelly voice. With those few words the call abruptly ended.

Dragona sat and stared at his phone.

"Problem?" Lauren asked.

"No," he answered and looked around to make sure no one else could hear him. "Boucher's at the Rock Castle Casino in Atlantic City," he said.

"And you know that how?" Lauren asked.

"That doesn't matter, the information's good. Now I have to figure out how we can track his movements without sending our people down there."

Lauren thought for a minute. "I think I can help. Intelligence has a lot of contacts in Jersey, especially in the organized crime, narcotics and vice units. I can make a phone call to see if there's someone down there we can contact to help you."

"That would help, yes, but I don't want to spoil our dinner. You said we could use a break and..."

"Don't be silly," Lauren interrupted. "The case is more important. I'll make the call and we can still eat."

As she fished through her shoulder bag to find her phone, her cousin Angelina came to take their order. Lauren selected a small antipasto with a side of spaghetti, Dragona went with the chicken piccata and spaghetti. A few minutes later a young server boy delivered a basket of rolls, butter, and warm oil. Dragona munched on a roll as Lauren made her call.

"Okay, I spoke with Neil Caputo, he's the primary Intelligence officer for organized crime. He said he has some contacts at the Castle Rock, he'll make some calls and get back to me in a little while."

She looked at Dragona who was now buttering his second roll. "They're good. aren't they?" she asked. "My aunt bakes them fresh every afternoon."

"Great!" he answered trying not to talk with his mouth full. He swallowed and wiped his lips with his napkin. "I guess I was hungrier than I thought."

"Well, don't fill up on bread, your dinner will be here soon," she mildly scolded him.

"By the way when we got here your mother said something in Italian. What did she say?" he asked.

Lauren laughed. _" Non fanno una bella coppia?_ It means 'Don't they make a beautiful couple?"

Oh! So now we're a couple, Dragona thought to himself. Mama Rocano's remark didn't bother him at all; he took a long sip of his wine.

Their dinners arrived a few minutes later, they ate and chatted, mostly about the restaurant and Lauren's family.

"Can I ask you a question?" she asked as Dragona was finishing up his dinner.

"Sure!"

"I noticed how supportive you've been of Tommy Burr and now Leonardo. They both seem like great young guys, I was just wondering why you brought them into your squad when the rest of the detectives are, how shall I say this..., a little rough around the edges?"

"A little rough?" Dragona said with a laugh. "Let's face it, they're all old school and not afraid to get their hands dirty if it comes to that. Tommy and Leonardo are just starting out in their careers, they deserve a chance to prove themselves. Maybe their college boy ways will soften the others up a bit."

"You know, you may be right, especially with Carmen. She's tough as nails and a fighter, but I've been watching her with Tommy and she seems almost maternal with him," Lauren said.

"Carmen has a good heart and brain. She can be vicious in a fight, but sometimes that's what it takes to get the job done. I must admit though, she does seem to have a soft spot for Tommy," he said.

Lauren laughed. "He's a far cry from Earl the Pearl, that's for sure!"

The beeping of Dragona's phone again cut their conversation short. He looked at the caller ID and saw it was Detective Matt Costa.

"Boss! Ricky and I just got back to the office, Tommy said you went to get the search warrants signed. We may have something for you."

"Yeah, the Judge signed warrants for the swabs at Bethany's apartment, and the jet, Dragona said. "What have you guys got?"

"We tracked down the pilot and co-pilot. The pilot is Michael Madison, he said he's been flying King's jet for him for the past three years. He confirmed he's scheduled to fly to Paris Saturday morning, and get this; he said his dispatcher told him the only passengers would be Boucher and his friend Mark Brock!"

"I knew it"! Dragona said, realizing as soon as he spoke his voice was louder than he had wanted.

"What?" Lauren asked. He motioned for her to wait.

"And Boss, he and his co-pilot, a guy named Russell Smith, both said over the past couple of years they've flown some young guys to New York from Paris, each time Boucher was the only other passenger."

"Did they say anything about the young guys?"

"Yeah and then some. They said they had some issues with them using drugs on the plane, being touchy feely with each other. They realized these guys were all gay."

"What about underaged guys?" Dragona asked.

"That's where this gets interesting; they said they saw most of their passports, they've all been in their early to mid-twenties. The few that talked about where they were going said they were vacationing at Quentin King's estate."

"If all of them have been over twenty-one, that's not criminal," Dragona said.

"Agreed, but there's something weird about all this," Malone said.

"Both pilots said of all the young guys they flew out of Paris, they guessed there's been about a half-dozen or so, not one of them was ever on a return flight."

"Are you sure Matt?"

"That's what they both said. They were adamant about that.'

"Did you ask them if the plane was ever searched either before take-off or after landing?"

"Yeah, Ricky did! Believe it or not they said they've never been searched. In Paris they've been asked to produce passports but that's it."

They said they fly into, wait a minute, I wrote in down; Paris Le Bourget. They said it's the busiest private jet airport in Europe and a bitch to get in and out of because of the volume of air traffic."

"Okay, thanks for the info, you guys did a great job. Why don't you head out? You can write up your reports in the morning"

After he ended the call, Lauren again asked, "What?"

He started to fill her in on the report from the charter pilots, half-way through his explanation Angelina returned and asked if they'd like desert. They declined, settled on coffee, Angelina and a bus boy cleared the table.

"So, we now have confirmation that Boucher and Brock are flying to Paris Saturday morning. I wonder if Quentin King knows that?" she said.

She had raised a point he hadn't thought of.

He continued his report that all the young men that had flown on the plane were believed to be young adults. If that were the case, the allegation King was a pedophile flying his victims in wouldn't stand up.

"Then why would Gisella Hould and Boucher be accusing him?" she asked. He had no answer for her.

"Lauren, there's one more thing," he said and explained the odd statement that none of the young men who had flown on King's jet from Paris with Boucher had been on any of the flights back to Paris. She looked stunned.

"You don't think...?" she asked, her voice trailing off before she finished the question. Dragona interrupted her.

"Lauren, during your investigation of organ trafficking on the Dark Web, were you able to determine where the offers to sell organs were originating from?"

'Nothing definite," she answered. The last I heard was that Intelligence believed some of the posts originated from the Northeast US."

Lauren's cousin brought their coffees to the table along with a small plate of Italian pastries.

"Your mother told me to tell you that you eat like a bird! She and my mother made up this dessert plate especially for you. Enjoy!"

Lauren stared at the plate, then shifted her eyes to Dragona.

"Danny," she said in a hushed voice as she leaned across the table toward him. "You don't think Boucher and Brock killed these young guys and harvested their organs, do you?"

"I don't know what to think," he answered as he slowly poured cream into his coffee cup.

They sat in silence drinking their coffee and sampling the pastry sweets that turned out to be mouth-watering. When they finished Dragona asked Lauren to get the attention of her cousin for their check.

"There is no check, Danny. I told you the last time, we're family. We can leave Angelina a tip and I'm ready to leave any time you are," she said.

Dragona waved her off when she attempted to split the tip with him, he left some cash on the table and they both stood to leave. Lauren excused herself to use the ladies' room, Dragona went into the bar and stood against the wall watching the soccer match. A minute later his cellphone rang. This time it was Chief Prentiss. He moved away from the group at the bar for privacy and answered.

"Danny, I just got off the phone with the Commissioner, he said he got a call from Quentin King's lawyer; something about an extortion complaint made by King. The Commissioner is very concerned about the political implications if the media picks up the story. Do you know anything about this?"

Dragona quickly filled him in on the phone call from the Brooklyn DA who initially took the complaint, and his request that Violent Crimes roll the extortion allegations into the investigation of Bethany Bennett's murder.

"I wish you had called me as soon as your learned about this," the Chief said." I don't like being blindsided."

"Neither do I, Chief, and I don't like being the NYPD case dump."

Chief Prentiss was silent for a minute. "Okay, I hear what you're saying, but in fairness, given the players involved in this extortion allegation, it makes sense there could be a connection with your case."

Dragona hesitated before he answered. He saw Lauren approaching with her mother and father, he furtively signaled her to keep her distance before he turned to face away from them. Fortunately, she sensed something was wrong and steered her parents toward the foyer.

"Chief, the murder case is coming together quickly. I can't explain right now, but we'll be executing some search warrants Saturday morning. If we find what I think we will, we'll be making arrests."

Again, the Chief didn't immediately respond. After a few more seconds he spoke.

"All right, do you need anything from me?" he asked.

Dragona had put together a plan on how they would approach Boucher and Brock at the airport, but he knew he would need more officers than he had in his unit. He glanced at his watch, it was almost seven-thirty, too late to go back to his office, he would have to put together a plan from home.

"Chief, I'll call you tomorrow morning and lay everything out for you. I'll need some additional NYPD support, and we'll need to bring the airport police into this."

"Airport police? Where? LaGuardia? JFK?"

"Westchester," Dragona answered.

For the third time, Chief Prentiss was silent.

"All right. Ten AM tomorrow morning; you don't have to call me. I'll be at your office and I'll expect you'll have a plan for me to review."

"You'll have it, Chief, thanks," he said and ended the call.

He went out to the foyer and joined Lauren and her parents. He apologized for his distraction, calling it "a little police business matter."

Mama and Papa Rocano appeared to buy his story, the look on Lauren's face told him he wasn't fooling her. He thanked her parents for dinner and after hugs all around he and Lauren headed out the door.

"A little police business matter, my ass," she whispered. "We need to talk."

They sat in the car and he filled her in on the Chief's phone call.

"Political implications?" she asked. "Why should we even be thinking about that let alone worrying? I don't understand."

"A lot of prominent people attended King's bash for the Vice President last week, including the Mayor and the Police Commissioner. If the word gets out accusing King of being a pedophile that could be a huge scandal."

"That's their problem, not yours, isn't it?"

"Yeah, but unfortunately the Chief is caught between a rock and a hard place. He doesn't need the Police Commissioner breathing down his neck and neither do we.'

"So, what are you going to do?" she asked.

"Tonight, I need to put in writing the plan on how we're going to execute the warrant on King's jet; the Chief wants to review it tomorrow morning. I'm betting everything that Boucher and Brock will be carrying harvested body parts, specifically Bethany's face, or what's left of it."

"God! Just to hear those words gives me the shivers," she said as she reached over and wrapped her arm around his. "This is like something out of a horror movie," she said shaking even more.

Dragona drove back to Manhattan South for Lauren to pick up her car, unexpectedly, she gave him a kiss on the cheek and they both headed to their homes.

At his condo, Dragona checked his lobby mailbox before he took the elevator up to his floor. He went inside, grabbed his laptop and sat down in the living room. It only took a half hour for him to put in writing his plan to execute the warrants.

The evidence collection at Bethany's apartment would be easy. He would call Lieutenant Ramon Consuelo in the Crime Scene Unit first thing in the morning to arrange for one of his technicians to go with Matt Costa and Carmen and collect swabs from the floor.

Chief Prentiss had arranged for an immediate comparison of the swabs with that of the tarp they suspected had protected the floor from bloodstains.

A match would be the link between the apartment and King's estate where Eton Boucher lived. He thought a jury would reasonably conclude the tarp was brought into the apartment by Boucher.

The search of King's jet wasn't going to be as simple. The operation would require all his detectives and a squad from NYPD's Emergency Services Unit. He had the thought they needed to brief the pilots of what would be happening, but that would be at the last minute before Boucher and Brock arrived at the terminal. He made a sidebar memo to check with Matt Costa and Ricky Malone how the two pilots had reacted when they were questioned. Their cooperation in not tipping off the two suspects would be critical.

Paul Burns and Manny Diaz would be assigned to set up surveillance on Mark Brocks apartment at six AM. The assignment would be to follow Brock to the airport, either him driving his own car or getting a ride.

The Westchester County PD needed to be briefed. He decided that he would drive up to White Plains tomorrow morning and check out the terminal where King's jet was parked, and later touch base with the cops assigned to the airport main passenger terminal. He decided he would only tell them the search was related to evidence in a homicide investigation and make no mention of the human organs.

He leaned back in his recliner and tried to visualize how to take the two men into custody and search them and their baggage. Ideally, if they could be approached inside a hanger, possible escape routes could be blocked.

If they were out on the tarmac they could run; in a worst-case scenario, they could board the plane and hold the pilots as hostages. The unknown was whether Boucher or Brock would be armed.

As he thought it through, an idea came to him. He could have Carmen and Lauren dressed as flight attendants inside the plane. If the men made an attempt to forcibly board the plane, they would have to get through the two women. Dragona was confident that wasn't going to happen.

Satisfied his plan would survive Chief Prentiss's review, he got ready for bed. As he lay there, he decided tomorrow he would take Lauren with him up to White Plains. The thought of being in her company again was comforting. Just before he fell asleep another thought came to him; this one would keep him awake for a while.

What had happened to the young guys who never flew back to Paris?
**Chapter 22**

In the morning Dragona was back in his office at eight AM. He saw Tommy Burr was busy making a fresh pot of coffee, he went into his office and logged onto his computer. An email from the Brooklyn DA's office caught his eye. He clicked on it and saw an attachment was Quentin King's sworn statement prepared by his attorney.

He slowly read the document; amazingly, King acknowledged Gisella Hould was Eton Boucher's mother, but he denied he was Eton's father without any elaboration on what their relationship was to him.

The statement recounted several phone calls between King and Boucher, the discussions initiated by King after he had been visited by police detectives investigating the murder of one of his business employees and informed Eton had been receiving large amounts of money from the King's Court business account.

King admitted he had authorized Gisella to give Eton what he described as "reasonable living expenses," but argued that she had on her own given him outrageous sums of money.

The statement said King demanded Gisella provide his accountants with access to the King's Court business records, and alleged a day after that conversation is when Eton called him demanding King pay him and Gisella one million dollars each or they would go to the newspapers and expose him as a serial pedophile.

The statement had multiple paragraphs citing court cases involving extortion and what amounted to a legal discussion as to how the statutes applied to this case. The statement was prepared more for a civil lawsuit than a complaint to the police he thought to himself. What surprised him was the statement didn't contain a denial of the pedophile allegation.

He shook his head that this distraction had been dumped on him when he was trying to solve a murder. He printed the statement so Tommy and Leonardo could open a case and try and make some sense of it.

He called the Crime Scene Unit; Ramon Consuelo was at his desk. He agreed to send a tech upstairs to Dragona's office at nine-thirty with equipment to obtain the floor swabs from Bethany's apartment.

The rest of the detectives arrived for work during the next fifteen minutes and Dragona gave them their assignments for the day. When he finished, he asked Lauren and Carmen to join him in his office.

He explained his plan to execute the search warrant on Boucher and Brock and the contingency they might resist and somehow try to board the plane by force.

"I had the thought that we could put you two on the plane under the pretext of being flight attendants to prevent that from happening. Carmen looked over at Lauren and grinned. "That works for me; you in on this partner?" she asked.

Lauren looked over at Dragona and after a few seconds nodded her head yes. "Yeah, I'll do it." Dragona sensed something wasn't right.

"Lauren, if this is going to make you uneasy, I can put one of the ..."

_" No!"_ she interrupted him. _" I said I'll do it. I'll be fine."_

Carmen apparently realized what Dragona had forgotten. This would be Lauren's first undercover assignment since the incident with the serial rapist she had killed.

"If you'll excuse me, I think you two need some time alone," she said.

"Lauren, I apologize, I didn't stop to think...." Dragona said. She held her hand up to interrupt him.

"I said I'll be fine, and I mean it. I trust Carmen and I trust you, so let's just drop the subject and move on."

"Okay, he said." Something bothered me last night after I went home. I thought about the pilots telling Ricky and Matt that none of the young guys they brought over from Paris ever flew back to Europe on King's jet."

"Hmmm. They could have flown back commercial, I suppose," she suggested.

"Yeah, I guess, but we're not exactly sure who they are, so we have no way of following up on that, and that troubles me."

"I'm not following you," she said.

"Is there any way we can get a list of unidentified young male John Doe bodies that the ME's office has had in the past two or three years?"

Lauren thought for a moment. "Intelligence has two detectives from the Cold Case squad attached to us, I know they've developed some extensive databases, maybe they would have something."

"If they did, we could narrow the search criteria down for them to males sixteen to thirty years old. Could you make a call and check that out?" he asked.

"Sure, but I'm curious; where are you going with all this?"

"I know this will sound a little off the wall, but if we're correct that Boucher and Brock are trafficking in human organs, I can't believe that this is something new to them. The cases you've been working on, the missing organs, when did those complaints start coming in?"

"The first one was a little over a year ago, then there was a lapse, the other two happened within the past six months," she answered.

"The other day you said something about the cyber crimes' guys thinking the Dark Web postings were originating from the Northeast. Is that the best they can do?"

"I know they've been posting bait messages indicating they may be interested in doing business with the traffickers, but the last briefing I sat in on said they hadn't any responses," she said.

Changing the subject, she asked, "What else do you want me to work on today?"

"How would you like to take a ride with me up to the airport in Westchester? I want to get a look at the terminal where King's jet is kept and I need to brief the airport PD officers on our plans for tomorrow morning."

"Sure, I'd love to go," she said." Just let me check in with Intelligence. I didn't hear back last night from Neil Caputo on anything his sources at the Rock Castle Casino may have picked up about Boucher. Just give me fifteen minutes and I'll be ready to go."

Dragona walked out into the squad room. Carmen looked up from her computer. "Are we good to go?" she asked motioning her head toward Lauren who was on the phone at her desk.

"Yeah, we're good. Lauren and I are going to take a ride up to the airport and scope things out for tomorrow. We should be back in a couple of hours."

"Okay," Carmen said." Matt and I are just waiting for the crime scene tech and we'll head over to Bethany's apartment. That shouldn't take long, though. I thought maybe when we're finished, we could check in with Jerimiah at King's Court and see if he's heard anything about the case on his end."

"Okay, that's a good idea. I'd be interested in knowing how Gisella Hould's been acting since this extortion complaint came out. See if Jerimiah brings it up, if he doesn't, don't you guys let on we know about it."

"Got it, no problem," she said in acknowledgement.

Twenty minutes later Dragona and Lauren pulled out of the underground garage at Manhattan South.

Traffic was heavy in Midtown; he monitored the police radio in his unmarked car to keep abreast of any accidents or road conditions that would slow their trip. The almost non-stop messages back and forth between the precinct cars on the street and their dispatchers indicated the cops were busy, but no major delays were being reported.

Once he entered the Hutchinson River Parkway, traffic thinned and the drive was less stressful.

As he drove, Lauren received a phone call from a detective assigned to the cold case squad in the Intelligence Unit. He told her that his squad did have a database of John Doe deceased persons thought to be victims of homicide. He said he ran a query going back three years and found sixty-seven matches to her criteria of males between sixteen and thirty years of age and had forwarded a spreadsheet to her email.

She filled Dragona in on the conversation as she accessed her email and brought the data up on the screen of her phone.

"How old do you think those guys were that we saw at King's estate the other day?" she asked.

"Early twenties maybe, they didn't look any older than twenty-five if I had to guess"

She sorted the data by estimated age and learned there were twenty-four John Does between sixteen and twenty-five. She told Dragona of her findings, stressing that the Medical Examiner could only estimate ages.

"All these John Does were assigned case numbers, correct? We should be able to review the files to see if any of the bodies showed signs of dismemberment or mutilation," he said.

"Are you still thinking Boucher and Brock killed these young guys who didn't fly back to Paris on King's plane?" she asked.

"I know it's off the wall, but it needs to be looked into," he answered.

Lauren shivered. "Yikes, this is creepy. I feel like we're looking into Frankenstein's little black book!"

"It's New York City, anything is possible," he somberly replied.

"Oh! Our exit is coming up," she exclaimed as she pointed to a sign along the roadside of Interstate 684. Dragona eased over to the right lane and took the exit off the highway.

Dragona found the airport to be much smaller than LaGuardia and JFK, it serviced a relatively limited number of domestic commercial flights but had a heavy volume of business jet business.

As he drove along Airport Road, he saw signs pointing to charter flight service terminals. He pulled to the side of the road.

"Is something wrong?" Lauren asked, puzzled by why he stopped.

"I forgot the name of the flight service that Tommy said maintains King's plane and I didn't write it down," he answered sheepishly as he reached into this jacket pocket for his cellphone.

He looked over at Lauren as he called Tommy at the office; without success she was trying not to laugh at him.

"Broadway Aviation, got it, thank you Tommy," he said into his phone.

Lauren tapped his arm with her hand and pointed toward the windshield. "It's the next right, Marco Polo."

They pulled into the parking lot adjacent to the tarmac in front of a hanger. It was easy to recognize King's plane, parked along a row of Lear and Citation jets his was by far the largest aircraft. They got out of the car, Dragona pulled out his phone and took a picture of the jet to document the registration number on the tail.

As he did, a mechanic who had been working on a nearby jet approached them and asked what they were doing. Dragona showed the man his NYPD credentials and asked to speak with a manager. He and Lauren were escorted into the reception area of the hanger, a few minutes later, they met with a man who identified himself as Wes Wainright, the Operations Manager.

Dragona showed the man his credentials and gave him a cover story that he and Lauren were following up on a tip that a wanted person may be flying out tomorrow morning on King's jet.

"A wanted person?" Wainright asked with suspicion. "You have a name?"

Dragona thought fast. "Yeah, Thomas Burr," he answered. Lauren looked over at him in surprise as a slight smile formed on her lips as she looked away to keep from laughing.

"Burr?" Wainright asked." Is he one of Mr. King's staff? What did this guy do?"

Dragona explained he couldn't go into details but the man was wanted for investigation of an export scheme.

Wainright appeared to accept the explanation and suggested they go up to his office where he could check and see if a flight plan and passenger manifest had been filed.

Wainright checked his computer. "Ah, here's the flight plan. Departure tomorrow at ten-fifteen for Paris. Let's see, where's the manifest? Okay, here it is. Hmm. It only lists two passengers; Eton Boucher and Mark Brock. I don't see any Thomas Burr," he said as he turned the monitor toward Dragona.

"Do you know these guys, Boucher and Brock?" Lauren asked.

"Boucher, I know; he's a relative of Mr. King, I think. He's been on quite a few flights before. Brock sounds familiar but I don't know him."

"Is there any way you can check past flights to see who the passengers were?" Lauren pressed.

Wainright looked Lauren up and down. "You a detective too?" He asked, not hiding the fact he was checking out her figure.

"I am, it's my turn to watch the Captain today. Now, can you check past flights for passengers?" she responded sharply.

Wainwrights' chauvinistic attitude quickly faded as he typed something into the keyboard. He scrolled through what appeared to be a dozen or so pages of manifests, as he did Dragona caught a glimpse of several that had multiple passengers listed.

"It would be helpful if we could get a printout of all the passenger manifests for the past year or two," he said.

"I can't do that, these are confidential business records," Wainright pushed back.

Dragona looked over at Lauren. "Give the office a call and tell them to draw up a search warrant for the flight manifests for the past three years, personnel records of all the flight crew who have been chartered as well as all maintenance records on Mr. King's jet."

"Whoa! Search warrant? What's going on here?" Wainright protested.

"I told you Mr. Wainright, this is a major NYPD case. I can't go into details, but I had hoped you'd cooperate with us and voluntarily turn over the manifests. I understand your position; it's more work for us but if we need to get a search warrant, we will."

He continued. "I hope you understand that when the warrant arrives. we'll have to shut your operation down while the evidence technicians seize your computer and business records."

Wainright had a panicked look on his face. "Can't we work something out?" he asked. "I can't shut down our operations, I'd lose my job," he whined.

Dragona looked over at Lauren. "Okay, we'll settle for just the passenger manifests for the past year or two," he said to Wainright. "If you give them to us now, I'll call it even."

The man couldn't get the documents loaded into the printer fast enough. Again, Lauren turned away to hide her smile. A few minutes later Wainright handed him a stack of papers.

"What time will the pilots arrive tomorrow for their pre-flight preparations?" Dragona asked.

Wainright checked his computer. "The pilot is Mike Madison the co-pilot is Russell Smith. They check in early; I'd guess they'll be here about eight."

"All right. we'll be back here tomorrow at eight to speak with them," Dragona explained. "Now, it's extremely important Mr. Wainright that you do things tomorrow to prepare for the flight just as if we weren't here today, do you understand? Just relax and conduct your business as you normally do."

Wainright nodded his head that he understood. Dragona was surprised he didn't say anything about calling his boss. He and Lauren headed outside to their car and drove around to the front of the commercial passenger terminal.

"Hey!" the voice shouted. "Move! You can't park there!" Dragona looked over and saw it was a County police officer, one of a dozen who were posted in the driveway at the terminal entrance.

"Hey! I said move your car!" he shouted even louder as he quickly walked toward the car and pointed to a parking garage on a hillside above them.

"NYPD," Dragona said as he displayed his credentials, "We're here on official business and I..." Before he could finish explaining, the officer slammed his hand down on the fender.

"Hey! I don't care who you are, this is a restricted area. Move your car up into the garage," he said loudly.

Before Dragona could continue to explain why he was there, a uniform Sergeant walked up as backup for the officer. "What's the problem here?" he asked as he bent over to look inside the car."

Again, Dragona showed his credentials. "I'm Captain Dragona NYPD Violent Crimes. I need to speak with a ranking officer about a case that we're working on," he said.

The Sergeant looked at the badge and photo ID and straightened up. "Dragona? Are you the one they call the Dragon?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'm afraid so. Look, we don't mean to cause a scene but we're here to brief your department on an operation we're going to be doing up here tomorrow. Just tell me where I can park for a few minutes."

The Sergeant directed him to pull around the line of cruisers in the driveway and motioned for another officer to move a barrier in front of a vacant parking space. He did as he was instructed and parked; the Sergeant approached as he and Lauren got out of the car. It was obvious the Sergeant only had eyes for Lauren.

"So, what's this all about, Captain?" he asked, briefly glancing at Dragona before turning again toward Lauren.

Dragona was careful how much information he disclosed, saying only a suspect in a homicide might be attempting to leave the State on a private jet and that he and some backup NYPD officers were planning to detain the person if he showed up in the morning.

""Homicide? The Sergeant asked. "Aren't you in charge of the investigation where the stripper was murdered and her face cut off? I saw that in the newspaper."

Dragona nodded yes and said he just wanted the Sergeant's department to be aware of the investigation in the event they received any phone calls about police activity at one of the charter service hangers.

"You're bringing your people up into our jurisdiction? I'll have to run that by our Captain."

"Fine, you do that, Sergeant," Dragona said as he handed his business card to the man. "Have your Captain call me; C'mon Lauren, we're out of here," he said as he slid behind the wheel and started the car.

"Well that went well," she said sarcastically as Dragona navigated the sharp curve in the driveway that wound its way around the perimeter of the parking garage.

"Yeah, but I get it," he responded. "This is their turf and they don't want to get caught short if something goes wrong."

"Ha!" she laughed. "With this case what could possibly go wrong? How are you going to pull this off tomorrow? You have a small squad of detectives; you can't expect them to cover all the bases for you."

"We'll recruit some help. I plan on having four of the Emergency Services guys work with us. I thought we could put them on the ground near the plane dressed as maintenance people and we'll have you and Carmen inside the plane as flight attendants."

"But don't you think a SWAT team pulling up in an ESU truck is going to attract just a little bit of attention?"

"I don't want one of their trucks, they have some unmarked Ford Expeditions. They're black with tinted windows, and granted, they look like government vehicles, but they're not as conspicuous as the trucks."

"But how are you going to get the pilots to buy into this? I mean, they're going to think we're putting their necks on the line." she said.

He looked over at her as he pulled up to a stoplight at the entrance ramp to Interstate 684 South.

"That's when I'll need you and Carmen to smile sweetly at them and charm them into cooperating!"

"Oh, so now the truth comes out!" she said with a wide grin as she playfully punched him in the arm.

Traffic became heavier as they headed back to the City, even the left passing lane was stop and go at many points. As he drove, Lauren went through the flight manifests from Broadway Aviation.

"Bingo!" she exclaimed.

"What?"

"Jean-Paul Luc and Alexandre Picard flew from Paris to Westchester on September six last year; Alex Charpentier and Adriean Bouflam were on a flight in March of this year.

"Do the manifests list dates of birth or passport numbers?"

"Not from what I can see here. But it does say that Eton Boucher was also on both those flights," she answered as she flipped through the documents.

"So, that would strengthen our belief that Boucher was importing young men for Quentin King," Dragona said.

"That could be; it may look like that but it's a far stretch from proving it," Lauren said as she set the paperwork down on her lap. He glanced over at her, she seemed to be lost in thought.

"What are you thinking?" he asked after a few minutes.

"We got a quick response the other day from our NYPD liaisons with Interpol. I was thinking I could email them with the four names and see if they could run criminal checks on them or hopefully, come up with dates of birth. What do you think?"

Dragona agreed. As he concentrated on the traffic that was quickly becoming a parking lot, Lauren sent the email from her phone. A few minutes later southbound traffic came to a complete standstill.

_" Damn!"_ he said in frustration as he banged his fist on the steering wheel and turned up the volume on his police radio to see if he could learn what the holdup was. After a minute or two he learned it was an accident.

He leaned back into his seat and stretched his arms against the steering wheel. "It figures," he said to himself shaking his head.

His cellphone beeped, he looked and saw it was Carmen. He answered, she reported the crime scene tech had obtained the swabs from the floor of Bethany Bennett's apartment without incident, the specimens were on their way to the forensic lab to be scanned by the mass spectrometer.

"We're here at King's Court with Jerimiah, somethings not right," she said. "He told us Gisella Hould hasn't been to work for two days, he's been calling her cellphone and she's not answering."

Before he could ask a question, she continued. "Also, Quentin King called him and said his accountants would be coming to the club to go over the financial records and instructed him to cooperate with them."

"Jerimiah said he told King about Gisella's absence; King seemed to brush him off. Jerimiah thinks something is very wrong with all this."

Dragona glanced at the windshield, traffic ahead was still stalled.

"I agree, this doesn't sound right. Why don't you and Matt head over to Hould's condo building and see if the doorman has any information about her whereabouts."

Carmen agreed and ended the call. "What's going on?" Lauren asked.

He explained Carmen's information about Gisella Hould being missing from work, a troubled look came over her face.

"I'm getting a bad feeling about all this," she said.

"How so?"

"We have information that the Hould woman is Eton's mother. She lives alone in a million-dollar condo, he lives with Quentin King, who through his lawyer is not saying he's Eton's father. Now it looks as if Hould has been giving Eton tens of thousands of King's money, but it's not until they allegedly hit him up for two million that he's become upset enough to file a police complaint. This doesn't make sense."

Lauren had a point, he thought to himself; it did look as if Eton Boucher was living the best of two worlds. What possibly could have been his motive to murder Bethany Bennett and jeopardize that?

Their discussion was interrupted as traffic began to move again, creeping along, but at least moving. An hour later they arrived at Manhattan South and went up to the Violent Crimes offices; as they entered, Tommy Burr jumped up.

"Captain, I was getting ready to call you. Sergeant Diaz has been calling here looking for you. He said he needs to speak with you. He said it was important but not urgent."

Dragona instructed the detective to get the Sergeant on the phone and forward the call to his office. Two minutes later the phone on his desk buzzed.

"Captain! Ricky and I've been sitting on Brock all day, something's going on with him," Sergeant Manny Diaz said.

"Okay, speak to me."

The Sergeant reported Brock left his apartment at nine this morning, instead of walking to the bodega at the end of his block he drove his car. The detectives watched as he made four trips out of the market, each time carrying two bags of dry ice that he put in the trunk. They followed him to a self-storage facility on Fulton Street in Brooklyn where they watched as he used an access card at the gate and drove into the storage yard.

Referring to Det. Malone, Diaz said, "Popeye took up a position outside of the chain link fence surrounding the place and watched Brock as he opened a storage unit and brought four of the ice bags inside. He came out about twenty minutes later and we followed him back to his apartment. We sat on his place for two hours, there was no activity from him so we dropped the surveillance and headed back to the storage yard."

'What did you find out?"

"According to the manager of the place, the unit he went into is rented in the name of Alex Picard with an address in Staten Island. He paid cash for three months in advance about two weeks ago."

Alex Picard? Dragona thought to himself. Where had he heard that name before? Suddenly, it dawned on him; the flight manifests for King's jet. He hollered for Lauren to come into his office.

As she came through the doorway he asked, "Is there an Alex Picard listed as having been a passenger on King's jet?" She told him to wait a minute and quickly went out to her desk, returning with the manifests. She scanned through them.

"Alexandre Picard flew from Paris to Westchester on September six last year, why?" He motioned for her to wait a minute and sit down.

"Manny, I need you to speak with the storage yard manager. I want to know if they have a record of what this Picard guy produced for identification when he rented the unit." The Sergeant didn't immediately respond.

"And Manny, this may be extremely important. Call me as soon as you speak with the manager," Dragona said and ended the call.

"What's going on?" Lauren asked.

Dragona explained the storage unit, the surveillance of Brock bringing ice into it, and the apparent false identification used to rent it. The color drained from her face.

"Danny, now I'm really getting a bad feeling about all this," she softly said.

"Yeah, me too."
**Chapter 23**

At five AM Saturday morning, the eighth day since the murder of Bethany Bennett, the clock radio on the table next to his bed woke Dragona from a sound sleep. He squinted and looked around. The light filtering around the edges of the blinds in the bedroom told him the sun was up; that was a good thing, he thought. He rolled over, sat up and dangled his feet off the edge of the mattress as he yawned and stretched.

He had stayed late at work last night finalizing arrangements for the Emergency Services Unit to assist with the searches at the airport this morning and briefed the Westchester PD Detective Bureau on the planned operation. The Bureau Commander had offered two of his detectives to assist if needed and gave his assurance the uniformed officers at the airport main terminal would keep clear of the area. .Dragona declined the additional detectives

Sgt. Manny Diaz had called in and reported that the storage unit manager remembered the rental transaction because Alex Picard said he had an international driver's license but produced a French passport for his photo ID.

The manager said he thought that was strange, but the passport photo matched the man presenting it. He told the detectives the man looked more Italian than French and didn't speak with an accent, but since it was a short-term cash rental, the manager admitted he didn't question the ID.

Dragona glanced at the time on the clock radio and realized he needed to get a move on if he was going to make the six-thirty briefing of his detectives and the Emergency Services officers at his office. He showered and dressed, strapped on his weapon, and slid two extra magazines into the side pocket of his leather jacket.

With confidence he stepped out of his building's front entrance into the cool, crisp September air. He was determined that before the day ended, he would have Bethany Bennett's killers in custody.

When he arrived at the office, the squad room was already crowded, the detectives and officers were milling about in small groups having a light breakfast of coffee and donuts that Carmen had thoughtfully picked up on her way into work. Not a surprise, the Emergency Services officers were gathered around her and Lauren. The two women detectives were dressed in matching dark slacks and white blouses and could easily pass for flight attendants, he thought to himself.

He saw the four ESU officers were wearing matching dark blue jumpsuits with the word "Maintenance" stenciled on a flap that extended from their necks down their backs. The flap was attached to the jumpsuits with Velcro to cover and hide the stenciled words "Police - NYPD" which was their normal tactical identification

He looked around and noticed his detectives Paul Burns and Ricky Malone were missing. Sgt. Diaz took notice of his concern.

"Paul and Ricky are sitting on Brock's apartment building, they got set up at five this morning," the Sergeant explained. "They're in separate cars, Paul said he'd call us when Brock starts moving."

Dragona fixed himself a coffee and sat down at the head of the table.

He started the briefing by explaining his squad's investigation of Bethany Bennett's murder had led them to determine the prime suspects were Eton Boucher and Mark Brock and pointed to photos of the two suspects that Tommy Burr had cast onto the wall mounted monitor along with a photo of King's plane.

He explained the men had chartered Quentin King's jet for a flight to Paris this morning and that they had obtained a search warrant for the jet and the persons and belongings of both men. The ESU officers seemed perplexed as they glanced at each other. Dragona knew what they were thinking; what will we be searching for?

"Guys, we think Boucher and Brock will be carrying Bethany Bennett's surgically removed face as part of a human organ trafficking case."

_" Oh, Jesus!"_ one of the ESU officers blurted out as he shook his head and looked at the other members of his team.

The officers asked how Dragona wanted them to set up at the airport. After discussion, they decided the ESU team would post themselves next to one of the jets parked closest to King's plane making sure they had a clear path to intercept the two men if they attempted to board by force.

"Captain, any information if these two guys are armed?" one of the officers asked.

He answered they did not but should assume they could be. He added one more comment; "We need these guys to be taken into custody, not killed. Deadly force has to be an absolute last resort, understood?"

The ESU officers looked at each other, one of them shrugged,

"We'll do our best Sir," he said.

A few minutes before seven the group headed out for the airport, Lauren and Carmen rode with Dragona in his car.

Traffic was unusually light, the trip up to the airport took forty-five minutes. Admittedly, the police convoy wasn't concerned about exceeding the speed limit. As Dragona turned onto Airport Road from the I-684 exit he pulled to the shoulder and stopped.

'Don't tell me you forgot where you're going again," Lauren said as he put his car in park.

"No..., I want to tell the others to hang back when we pull into the terminal lot until I'm sure they can set up without attracting attention."

After telling the support officers to hold in place in a parking lot off to the left and out of direct sight of Broadway Aviation, Dragona pulled up to the terminal and went inside with Lauren and Carmen. He was surprised to see the manager Wes Wainright waiting for him; the man already had a worried look on his face.

He briefed Wainright on his plan, his only objection was when he was told Carmen and Lauren would be waiting on-board King's jet as flight attendants.

'The last few times Mr. Boucher flew without Mr. King my company refused to supply flight attendants," he said.

"Why?" Dragona asked, surprised by the comment.

'Uh....Mr. Boucher's behavior is...how can I explain this? His behavior is crude. Our company won't allow our employees, especially the women, to be sexually harassed."

Carmen tapped Dragona on the arm. "Captain, I would enjoy very much the opportunity to help Mr. Boucher correct his bad behavior," she said with a smile.

Dragona raised his hand to stop her. "Thank You, Detective, but I'd rather avoid that." Turning back to Wainright he asked, "I see there's a smaller jet right next to Kings. Could we open that one up and have the detectives pose as if they're preparing it for a flight?"

Wainright hesitated.

"Sure you can, Mr. Wainright," Lauren interjected in a sweet voice. She stepped closer to him. "I know you want to help us, so let's just do this, okay?"

Wainwright nervously looked around. "All right. I'll have the ground crew drop the stairs on the Lear, it's not scheduled to go out today. But if it gets damaged, the police department will be held liable."

"Of course, Mr. Wainright, NYPD wouldn't have it any other way," Dragona assured him.

Turning to Carmen he said in a low voice, "Don't break anything."

Wainright's nervousness escalated when Dragona said his detectives were going to commandeer a few of the company's trucks and stage them near King's jet to appear they were doing maintenance work.

After some more discussion Wainright surrendered his objections and hastily retreated to his office. Dragona called Sgt. Manny Diaz and instructed him to have one of the ESU vehicles bring the officers over to the terminal; in a few minutes they arrived and he assigned them their posts.

A Broadway Aviation employee came outside and unlocked the Lear jet and lowered the stairs. Ten minutes later, with all the officers in place and their vehicles out of sight, the airstrip surrounding King's jet looked like business as usual.

He surveyed the officer's placements. He was satisfied if Boucher and Mark Brock attempted to storm the plane or run to avoid apprehension they would be thwarted.

A few minutes before eight a sedan drove into the terminal lot and pulled into a parking space near the office. Dragona watched and saw two men get out, both were wearing pilot's clothing. He walked over and introduced himself.

Captain Mike Madison and his co-pilot Russell Smith listened intently as Dragona explained the planned police activity, neither man seemed surprised by the interest in Boucher.

"I knew something was up when your detectives visited me at my house," Madison said. "Can I assume this has something to do with his bringing these young guys into the country?" he asked.

Dragona didn't hesitate to say yes. He thought that would be easier for the men to accept rather than tell them Boucher and Brock were suspected of trafficking human body parts.

The pilots agreed to prepare for their flight as they normally would, as they turned and started toward the flight office Madison stopped and looked around.

"You said you have some backup officers here already; but I don't see them. Where are they?" he asked as he looked over at the maintenance trucks and the men working on a small jet.

"That's the idea, Captain; just do what you normally do. But I have to tell you; your flight to Paris isn't going to get off the ground today.

Dragona went outside and moved his car to a private terminal parking lot across from Broadway Aviation, from this vantage point he would have an unobstructed view of King's jet. Now it was a waiting game until Detectives Paul Burns and Ricky Malone called to report Brock was on the move from his apartment.

The wildcard in the plan was Eton Boucher. The last information was he was at a casino in Atlantic City. Would he show up for his flight to Paris? The beeping of his phone brought Dragona the answer; it was Sergeant Manny Diaz.

"Captain, Ricky just called me. He said a black Porsche just pulled up in front of Brock's apartment and Brock came out and loaded a suitcase and one of those rolling luggage carriers into the car. The driver looks like Boucher. Hold on a minute Captain, Ricky's calling again."

Dragona waited; he remembered the East Hampton detective mentioning Boucher driving around town in a Porsche. A minute later Diaz came back on the phone.

"Okay, Ricky ran the license plate, the Porsche is registered to QK Holdings with an East Hampton address. Both targets are now in the car."

"That's Quentin King's company, Manny," Dragona said.

"Okay, the Porsche is on the move, headed North toward I-684. They're tailing it and will keep me posted," Diaz said. "Captain, do you have your portable two-way radio?"

Dragona said he did, Diaz instructed him to turn it to channel four, a tactical frequency, and added that Lauren and Carmen had signed on and said they were in position.

He reached inside the glove box, removed the portable police radio and signed on for a radio check using his badge number, two-zero-one, as his identifier. He glanced at his watch; it was a few minutes past nine. Boucher and Brock appeared to be on schedule to arrive for their ten-fifteen departure.

At quarter to ten the two pilots walked across the tarmac from the office, inspected the outside of the aircraft and climbed the stairs to the passenger bay.

Ten minutes later, the engines started, Dragona watched as the Captain ran a systems check of the flaps and rudder. All that was missing were Boucher and Brock, he thought to himself. He didn't have long to wait.

The Porsche pulled into the Broadway Aviation parking lot driveway slowly, Dragona watched as the driver appeared to be surveying the runway, coming to a stop near the Lear jet where Lauren and Carmen were posted. The car idled there for a minute before creeping slowly toward the parking spaces adjacent to the terminal building. It stopped; the passengers remained seated inside. "What the hell is he doing?" Dragona asked himself. He radioed to the others the targets had arrived and to hold their positions.

He pulled the chain holding his NYPD badge from inside his shirt exposing it to view and unzipped his leather jacket, checking the holster adjustment of the nine-millimeter automatic on his hip. As he watched the two men sitting in the Porsche an uneasy feeling came over him. He repeated his message over the radio for the others to hold their positions. Several minutes passed before the passenger door opened and a tall male wearing a three-quarter length car coat got out and looked all around. The man removed a rolling luggage bag and a small suitcase from behind the front seat, setting them down on the pavement. Again, he looked all around but didn't move. That has to be Brock, Dragona thought, although he couldn't clearly see the man's face.

The driver exited and motioned to his passenger to head for the plane, Dragona saw the driver was Eton Boucher. Brock grabbed his luggage and started across the tarmac, Boucher slowly following at a distance.

The plan Dragona had agreed to at the briefing with the Emergency Services Unit was that they would initiate the stop of the suspects. He watched the men until they were hallway to the jet's stairs and gave the command over the radio for the officers to move in.

Suddenly, the scene outside the aircraft erupted with shouts of _" Police! Freeze! Show your hands! Show your hands!"_

With their weapons drawn, the ESU officers confronted the men. Dragona slammed his car into drive and pressed the accelerator to the floor, it screamed across the tarmac toward the confrontation.

At the sight of the armed officers, Brock dropped the suitcase and knocked over the luggage carrier as he started to run back toward the Porsche.

Dragona steered his car directly at Brock who spun around at the roar of the approaching car's engine and changed directions to run directly back toward the police officers. They quickly took him to the ground as Dragona slammed on the brakes, threw his car onto park, and jumped out He spun around and looked over to locate Boucher.

Eton Boucher ran toward the Lear jet, reached inside his jacket and pulled out a small handgun. Whirling around, he wildly fired two quick shots in the direction of the officers as he leaped onto the first step of the Lear's entry ramp

There were four steps leading up from the tarmac to the Lear's passenger doorway, fatefully, that was three too many for Eton Boucher. Carmen Della-Rosa reacted to the gunshots, as Boucher put his foot on the third stair, she leaped head-first from inside the plane, crashing down on top of him, both hitting the pavement hard. Dragona ran toward them, out of the corner of his eye he saw Lauren jump down and violently pull Boucher away from on top of Carmen. With one vicious punch she hit him in the face, Carmen quickly recovered and joined in beating him into submission before two ESU officers ran over and forcefully pulled them off. He was quickly handcuffed; Lauren retrieved the small automatic handgun that had been knocked out of his hand. The two women stood over their prisoner as he weakly moaned. One of the ESU officers took the gun from Lauren and unloaded it, clearing the chamber.

"Anybody hit? Dragona called out to the others. In seconds he learned Boucher's shots had missed their mark.

"I think we're going to need an ambulance for this guy, Captain," one of the ESU officers said as he motioned toward Boucher. Suddenly, sirens could be heard in the distance, their wail growing louder every few seconds.

"That's probably the local airport cops," Dragona said to the ESU Commander, who in turn called out to his men to remove the flaps covering the NYPD identification on their jumpsuits.

Within minutes, the tarmac was swarming with the local police.

Dragona walked over to where Carmen and Lauren were examining the luggage carrier that Brock had been pulling, the bag was emitting a cloud of white colored vapor.

"That's from dry ice," Carmen said. "You know we have to look inside."

Dragona nodded, Carmen reached into her back pocket and pulled out a pair of exam gloves and put them on. She slowly unzipped the bag and reached inside. Suddenly she stopped and looked up at Dragona.

"It feels like we found what we thought we would," she said as she removed a shallow plastic lidded container. She took a deep breath and slowly pried the lid off.

_" Oh Dear God! Oh no!"_ she cried out. After a half-minute she slowly snapped the lid closed. She looked up at Dragona, her complexion now as white as the vapor. "I think it's Bethany's face," she whispered.

Dragona, Lauren and Carmen stared at each other, no one spoke. He saw a tear drop from Carmen's eye, in a few seconds she was softly crying, her shaking hands barely able to put the container back in the luggage carrier. Lauren bent over and rubbed Carmen's back, whispering that it was over now; Bethany's death had been avenged.

Carmen looked over with a glare at Eton Boucher who was lying on the pavement, guarded by two officers. Dragona could sense the rage boiling inside her, he gently reached over, whispered "No," and helped her to her feet moving her away from the container. The nearby officers realized what she had found, they were silent, their heads were bowed in disbelief.

Dragona walked over to Boucher who was lying bleeding onto the pavement and nudged his shoulder with his foot. The man looked up at him through eyes that were swollen almost shut.

"You're under arrest for the murder of Bethany Bennett and for attempted murder of the police officers you just shot at. Read him his rights," Dragona said to the officer guarding him.

Dragona walked over to where Mark Brock was being detained and told him he was under arrest for the murder of Bethany Bennett.
**Chapter 24**

An ambulance was called to the scene, Eton Boucher was transported to a local hospital guarded by Detectives Burns and Malone. Sgt. Diaz, Carmen, and Lauren searched the rest of the suspects' luggage and the Porsche, a process that took half an hour. An unexpected find in an attache case was a large amount of cash. Sgt. Diaz photographed the contents and decided it would be too time consuming to count it at the scene, it was locked in the trunk of Dragona's car. Two cell phones and a laptop computer were seized, their contents would be examined back at the Precinct.

As the search was being conducted, Dragona called Chief Prentiss and told him of the arrests, he was ecstatic Bethany's murder had been solved. Dragona threw a damper on his enthusiasm when he changed the subject and explained the storage locker Brock had rented under false pretenses.

'Why would he be bringing dry ice into a storage locker?" the Chief said. He paused for a few seconds. "Are you saying there may be more body parts involved in all this?"

"I'm going to need another search warrant, Chief."

The NYPD officers cleared the scene at noon, Dragona reluctantly agreed to let Carmen ride with Sgt. Diaz to bring Mark Brock back to the Precinct for processing, Lauren rode with Dragona.

When they arrived, he was relieved to see Carmen hadn't extracted her own brand of street justice on her prisoner during the trip, Brock was booked into the basement holding cellblock. They went upstairs to their office and turned the seized items over to Tommy Burr to be photographed and inventoried, Dragona settled into his office and called the Medical Examiner's office and arranged for them to pick up the container with what they believed was Bethany Bennett's face. They would need DNA to be extracted and compared with a specimen obtained from her corpse.

His next call was to Assistant District Attorney Jamison Parker to update him on the case. The Prosecutor agreed the arrests for Bethany's murder without a warrant were appropriate under the circumstances and said he would add the charge of attempted murder of a police officer to Eton Boucher for firing the gun. He explained that the District Attorney would file a motion to obtain DNA samples from both suspects and asked if Dragona could think of anything else he needed help with.

"As a matter of fact, yes," he answered and explained the detectives' surveillance of Brock at the rental storage unit and the need for a search warrant to see what was in it. When he finished, Attorney Parker was silent for a moment.

"And what would you be searching for?" the lawyer finally asked. "More body parts?"

"Yeah, or maybe bodies."

"I'll be at your office at ten o'clock tomorrow morning," the lawyer curtly said and ended the call.

Dragona leaned back in his office chair and ran his fingers through his hair. It was only early afternoon and yet he felt exhausted.

Sgt. Manny Diaz and Carmen came into his office and sank down into the two chairs across from his desk.

"This Brock guy is a punk, Boss," Manny said. "On the ride in he kept telling us we didn't know who we were messing with."

"That's a two-way street Manny; he messed with us but he's the one sitting in the cellblock right now," Dragona said. "You guys feel up to executing the search warrant at his apartment?

"Yeah," Carmen answered, "but we may need some backup. I don't know what we're going to find there now that we've recovered Bethany's face." Her sobering words cut like a knife and put a momentary pause on the conversation.

"Okay, but our squad is spread thin right now. I'll call downstairs and ask for two uniforms and a couple detectives to go with you. I don't know what you're going to find, but just to be safe you'll have enough people to deal with anything that may come up. The apartment's in Brooklyn so I'll have to call the Precinct over there and let them know you'll be in their jurisdiction."

Carmen looked over at Sergeant Diaz and nodded her agreement. They stood and went back into the squad room. Dragona looked up and saw Tommy Burr at his doorway.

"What's up Tommy?"

"Uh...Captain? Detective Rocano and I finished counting the money inside the attache case, it's exactly fifty-thousand dollars. She wants to know if you want us to make photocopies of all the bills and their serial numbers."

The amount of cash was surprising. Why would Boucher and Brock be taking that much cash to Paris after Boucher had been overheard to say he was coming back with one million?

"Tommy, are you sure about the amount? Fifty thousand?"

"Yes Sir! We counted it three times; all one hundred-dollar bills; five hundred of them."

Dragona instructed the young detective to tell Lauren absolutely they needed to be copied before the cash was turned into the Precinct evidence officer.

As he sat at his desk the thought came over him that this case had turned into something that seemingly had no end. How could these two guys be involved in so many bizarre things, especially Eton Boucher? On the surface it appeared he was living an extremely privileged life. Why did he murder Bethany Bennett? Why the extortion attempt against Quentin King?

Having no answers, he put his thoughts aside and called the Precinct Shift Commander in Brooklyn and made him aware of the Brock search warrant and gave him the address. Surprisingly, the Brooklyn Captain's response was a blase "Yeah, okay." A few minutes later Sgt. Diaz and Carmen headed out to Brooklyn.

Dragona walked out to the squad room and sat down next to Tommy's desk. He watched as the young detective and Lauren finished making copies of the seized money serial numbers.

"Whew!" she said as she sat down next to him when they finished. "That was a lot of work! Why do you suppose they were carrying this much money?"

Dragona told her he had no idea; it just didn't make any sense.

"What are you going to do about the storage unit Brock rented? You know we have to search it," she said as she stood up and helped Tommy wrap a wide strip of adhesive evidence tape around the attache case.

He explained Assistant DA Parker would be in tomorrow morning to help draw up a search warrant. As he spoke, he realized he hadn't seen Leonardo Portovano today. "Where's Leonardo?" he asked Tommy.

"Um..., he called me this morning and said he had to take his grandfather to a doctor's appointment," Tommy answered. "He said he'll be in tomorrow morning."

Dragona inspected the seized property paperwork documenting the money, and finding everything in order, he and Lauren took the attache case downstairs to the evidence storage office.

As they waited for the elevator Lauren asked, "Do you think this much money is safe to keep at the Precinct?"

He looked over at her. "If it's not, NYPD has a big problem."

The evidence room was in the basement of the Precinct building, down the hall from the prisoner holding cells. As he and Lauren stepped off the elevator instantly a strong odor of bleach stung their eyes causing them to wince. The noise level coming from the cellblock was incredible, the shouts and curses of the detained prisoners echoed off the cinderblock walls.

Dragona wanted Mark Brock to spend the night in the Precinct lockup pending his arraignment in the morning, with the thought his exposure to the reality of his situation would heighten his anxiety and fear. Dragona wanted to interview him, but to have the upper hand he needed him to feel hopeless and vulnerable to get him to break down and give up Eton Boucher as the mastermind behind Bethany's murder and the organ trafficking scheme. That personality shift would be a far cry from the tough-guy persona he had projected in his neighborhood, but a few more hours in this lockup hell hole might push him over the edge.

"God, it stinks down here," Lauren said as she covered her nose with her hand and stepped up the pace toward the Evidence Room.

The Evidence Officer on duty was an old-timer; as were several others assigned to the Precinct. He too was just putting in his days as he neared retirement. Dragona handed him the attache case and the seized property paperwork. The officer glanced at the inventory and raised his eyebrows when he saw the bottom-line dollar amount.

"Fifty-thousand?" he asked as he looked up over the round bifocals that balanced precariously on the tip of his bulbous nose.

"Yeah, and when we need it for Court, I want it to still have fifty thousand inside, understood?" Dragona asked.

"Hey! I just work here. I'll log it into the safe, there's cameras on it twenty-four seven; it'll be here," the officer answered as he picked up the case and walked over to a large floor safe.

Dragona and Lauren watched as the officer turned the combination dial on the safe door, pushed the handle down and swung it open. He put the case inside, shut the door and spun the dial. He handed Dragona a receipt for the evidence.

"There! Done and done!" the officer said

Dragona and Lauren took the elevator back up to their office, as they entered, they were surprised to see two uniform officers standing at Carmen's desk. She waved Dragona over.

"Captain, Jerimiah Jordaine filed a missing persons complaint on Gisella Hould. These officers met with him at the club and he suggested they contact us for more information. They want to know if we have any pictures of her."

The two officers turned and looked at Dragona.

"We went to her last known address, the building manager let us into her apartment to do a welfare check. She wasn't there, there wasn't any sign of forced entry or a struggle. We checked with the doorman; he hasn't seen her since he hailed a cab for her two mornings ago," one of the officers reported.

"Captain, Tommy isolated a still frame of her from the club video we have, is it okay to give it to these officers?" Carmen asked.

"Yeah, sure", he answered. "You also should have someone check with the airports, JFK and LaGuardia," he said to the officers. "Hould is originally from Germany or Austria but she may have lived in France for a while. She may be trying to leave the country," he said as he turned and went into this office without further explanation. He had no sooner sat down when he looked up and saw Sgt. Manny Diaz standing in the doorway.

"Got a minute, Captain?" Dragona motioned for him to come in.

"Ricky Burns just called from the hospital in Westchester. Boucher has a hairline fracture of his jaw and a concussion. The hospital wants to keep him for observation, Ricky suggested they bring him by ambulance to Bellevue and we can admit him into the hospital prison ward. That way we won't be tied up guarding him up North."

Dragona paused to think for a minute. Was it Lauren's punch that broke his jaw or Carmen's beating his head into the pavement, he wondered?

"Make it happen Manny; thanks!"

A commotion in the squad room caught his attention.

Dragona leaned over to look through his office doorway and saw Chief Prentiss and his driver Earl Moore had just arrived. "Great," he thought to himself, "Just what I need." He got up and walked out to the squad room. The Chief acknowledged him and motioned for them to go back into his office. The Chief closed the door and sat down.

"I met with the Commissioner this morning, he's extremely pleased with your arrests in the Bennett girl's murder," the Chief said. "Off the record, his staff is preparing a press release, he wants the suspects' arraignments to get as much media coverage as we can. I assume you'll be presenting them at Court in the morning?"

"We'll bring Mark Brock to court in the morning, .Boucher is still in the hospital in Westchester. We're working on getting him transferred to the prison ward at Bellevue this afternoon."

The Chief was surprised by the news, the expression on his face showed he wasn't pleased.

"Bellevue? What's wrong with him?"

"Hairline fracture of the jaw and a concussion."

The chief banged his fist on his knee in frustration. "Carmen?" he asked.

"No, I think the fractured jaw was courtesy of Lauren; the concussion is probably Carmen's work."

"Lauren?" the Chief asked incredulously. "Was the force necessary?"

Now it was Dragona's turn to bristle. _" Chief, Boucher fired two shots point blank at the ESU officers. It's a miracle no one was hit. Lauren and Carmen could have shot and killed him and it would have justifiable."_

Chief Prentiss thought about what he had just heard before he spoke. "All right. what do you have left to do to wrap this up?"

"As we speak, I have two detectives and some uniforms on their way to Brock's apartment to execute the search warrant there. ADA Parker is coming over tomorrow morning to help us get a search warrant for the storage unit that Brock rented under an alias. As I told you this morning, I expect we'll find some more body parts in there," Dragona said

"Tomorrow? Why the delay? You should be working on getting in there tonight."

"Manpower, Chief. We have all we can do just to write up the arraignment report for tomorrow and process the evidence we seized."

"Manpower? I'll get you all the help you need. I'll call the Brooklyn DA and get Jamison Parker here this afternoon. He can write your search warrant application. If you need detectives to go with you to the storage yard, I'll pull some detectives from the precinct over there. Where is it by the way?"

"Fulton Street in Brooklyn."

The Chief thought for a few seconds. "That's the Eight-Four Precinct. You can draw manpower from there, I'll make the call. What else do you need?"

"As I said, I expect we're going to find body parts, maybe worse. We should have a Haz-Mat team and someone from the Medical Examiner's office with us."

"You said maybe worse than body parts," the Chief said. "What do you think you're going to find?"

Dragona thought carefully before he spoke. "We know that a half-dozen young guys flew from Paris to New York on King's jet over the past couple of years and the pilots both have said they never brought any of those guys back to France."

"How long has this Brock had the storage unit?" the Chief asked.

"Three months. He paid cash in advance, the alias ID he used is in the name of one of the young guys that flew in from Paris."

"It doesn't make sense to me that if he and Boucher killed these guys for body parts, they've been moving their bodies around for a year, maybe longer. That makes no sense," the Chief said.

"I agree, it doesn't make sense," Dragona said. "But if we can get into the laptop Boucher was carrying, maybe that will open the door into how long he was dealing in black market organ trafficking."

Chief Prentiss rubbed his hands together and looked as if he was gathering his thoughts. His silence was intimidating. .He looked up and stared at Dragona.

"Violent Crimes owns the Bennett girl's murder case," he said, "Intelligence owns the organ trafficking case. You solved your case in a week, Intelligence has been working on theirs for six months. It sounds to me like you've handed them their organ trafficker, maybe the time is right for Violent Crimes to step back and let them take it from here," he said.

'No Chief, I don't think our case is closed. Organ trafficking wasn't the motive for Bethany's murder. I think she was killed because she stumbled across evidence Boucher and Hould were embezzling from Quentin King We've found nothing to show she knew anything about the organ trafficking."

"But then why did they slice off her face to sell it on the black market. That sounds to me like they targeted her. Why?" the Chief asked.

"Because she was beautiful, Chief. No, not just beautiful, from the pictures we found of her, she had a classic beauty. That's why I think they had a specific buyer in mind for her face to be transplanted, and that would tie Boucher to the plastic surgeon in France."

Chief Prentiss sat and considered what he was being told. Again, his silence was unnerving. He suddenly stood up.

"Okay, I'll give you two more days to play out your theory, and I'll get you all the support manpower you need to gather the evidence. But that's it. Two more days and I'm pulling the plug. There's a parade of Detective Commanders a block long ready to line up outside my office for you to take over their violent crimes' cases. Your squad has done excellent work, Captain, but I must think of the needs of the entire Department. Am I clear?"

"Yes, Chief, I hear you."

They walked out into the squad room and found his driver, Earl Moore talking with Carmen and Lauren, Tommy Burr was at his desk working on the laptop seized from Eton Boucher's car.

"Any luck on getting into the computer?" Dragona asked the young detective as he turned and looked at him and the Chief.

"I just got in using Boucher's date of birth as the password. That wasn't very smart of him," he answered with a grin.

"Well, let's just be thankful he made the mistake," Chief Prentiss said.

Detective Tommy Burr was quiet for a few minutes as he typed on the keyboard to bring up Eton Boucher's Internet access history. Suddenly he stopped and appeared to be staring at the laptop screen. Dragona took notice.

"What is it Tommy?"

"I'm not sure, I'll put it on the big monitor," he answered as he cast the laptop screen onto the wall mounted monitor.

He clicked on a strange looking IP address. "He's been into the Dark Web a bunch of times recently; this one message was from last evening a little after seven."

They stared at the large monitor that was displaying the cryptic message, "Your order has been filled and is shipping tomorrow."

'What the hell does that mean?" Chief Prentiss asked to no one specific.

Tommy moved the cursor to highlight the receiving party's IP address. He reached down and opened a briefcase lying on the floor next to his desk and rummaged through it until he pulled out a CD.

'This is a disk search tool. I'm going to load it into the laptop and paste the IP address into the search menu. If this works as it should, it will bring up the string of all messages sent to and from the Dark Web address," he explained. It took him less than five minutes to load the search program and start the query.

Chief Prentiss and the Captain were joined by Carmen, Lauren, and 'Earl the Pearl' Moore as they stood silently and watched the monitor, occasionally glancing back and forth at each other. A few minutes later Tommy Burr's search expedition struck paydirt.

He clicked on the first of six messages that had been discovered. It was date stamped three weeks earlier and sent to a Dark Web site that had posted an inquiry seeking information about surgical facial reconstruction. The inquiry was in English and brief, the grammar used suggested the writer was not speaking in their native language.

'Hold it a minute, Tommy," Dragona instructed the detective. "As you open each message. print it out before you open the next one, okay?"

"Got it Sir," he responded as he tapped a command into the keyboard.

As each new message opened, it became clear the originator was seeking a surgeon who could transplant a human face onto a twenty-four-year old woman who had suffered severe burns to her face A message sent from Boucher's laptop back to the person stated he had what he described as a 'world renowned plastic surgeon' who was capable of the procedure, with the caveat it would need to be done discretely and at significant expense. The next messages stunned everyone in the room.

"How much?" asked by the person seeking the surgery.

"One million US for product, MD services extra," was Boucher's reply.

"Photo of product?" sent by the prospective buyer two days later.

"Click link" sent by Boucher ten days ago.

Dragona stared at the attachment icon in the message. "Do it Tommy," he instructed the detective.

A few seconds later a young woman's photo appeared. Shockingly, it was a close-up of Bethany Bennett's face. From the photo background it was obvious it had been taken while she was working behind the bar at King's Court.

"There's your motive, Captain," Chief Prentiss said as he looked over at Dragona. "It wasn't that the Bennett girl stumbled upon the woman and Boucher embezzling money from King's club, it was organ trafficking all along. She was targeted right from the start."

Dragona didn't look at the Chief, his eyes were fixed on the image of Bethany on the monitor screen, the thought of the horror she must have suffered as the knife was plunged into her chest flashed through his mind. His breathing became more rapid and deep, a fury was building inside of him. How could a human being do what was done to her, and for what? Money?

Lauren moved close to him and put her hand on his arm.

"Are you all right?" she asked softly.

He looked over at her but didn't answer. Turning to Chief Prentiss he said, 'I'm going to bury the sons of bitches that did this." He turned away, walked into his office and slammed the door closed.
**Chapter 25**

"Come in," Dragona called out to the light tapping on his office door.

"Hey! Just checking on you," Lauren said as she approached his desk. He motioned for her to sit down.

"The Chief said to give you a few minutes. He was on the phone with the Brooklyn District Attorney, I heard him say he wants two Assistant DAs here immediately to help with a search warrant. What's wrong Danny? You stormed out of the squad room and I don't know why."

He looked over at her for a few seconds before he spoke.

"When I saw those emails Boucher sent, I couldn't understand why, after he pulled off the murder with such meticulous planning and execution, why the hell he would leave those messages on his computer."

"He slipped up," she answered, "And thank God he did. Those emails give us the whole case. He's going to prison for the rest of his life."

"Yeah," Dragona concurred with resignation. "This is one time I wished New York still had the death penalty."

"I agree but it doesn't, so, we just have to make the best of what we have," she said.

"When do you think you'll be able to arraign Boucher and Brock?"

"Brock we can arraign in the morning, I don't know about Boucher. We'll have to wait and see what the doctor says after we get him down here to Bellevue. Your punch did some damage to his jaw," he said.

"Sorry about that," Lauren said as a slight blush crossed her cheeks." It was either shoot him or hit him,"

"You did the right thing. By the way, how's your hand? It looks a little swollen."

She looked down and rubbed her knuckles." It's sore, but I don't think I broke anything. I'll put some ice on it when I go home tonight."

"Why don't I take you over to the hospital and have it X-rayed just to be sure."

_" No thank you!"_ she answered emphatically. "If you're going to search that storage unit tonight, I want to be there, not sitting in a hospital waiting room for hours."

"All right, it's your decision, just remember to fill out an on-duty injury report when you have some time. Did you say the Chief called to have a DA come here to help with the search warrant application?"

"I did, and he said just before he left that he was making arrangements to make available the support personnel you said you wanted for the search, and for you to call him when the warrant is signed."

Dragona thanked her and stood up from his chair. He motioned for her to follow him out into the squad room, as they entered, he saw Tommy Burr standing in front of the wall monitor talking with Leonardo Portovano.

"Hey!" he said to Leonardo. "I thought you called in to say you had to take your grandfather to the doctors. Is he all right?"

"Yes Sir. He had a reaction to some new medicine; they've admitted him for observation just to be on the safe side. There's nothing I can do for him at the hospital so I came over here. I hope that's all right."

Dragona assured him it was, and instructed Tommy Burr to bring him up to speed on the case.

A short while later Assistant DA Jamison Parker arrived, along with a paralegal from his office. Unexpectedly, they were accompanied by District Attorney Orlando Perez.

He introduced himself and asked if there was a place they could speak privately. Dragona motioned toward his office, they entered, he closed the door and they sat down.

"Chief Prentiss called me and filled me in on the emails you found," Perez said. "That puts this case into a whole new arena."

"I'm not following you. What do you mean by a whole new arena?"

"As it stands now you have Eton Boucher for the girl's murder and attempted murder for shooting at the officers at the airport. Until we get the results of the DNA comparison with the glove and tarp at the crime scene, we don't have hard evidence to connect him to the girl's murder. I got a call from the FBI. They're interested in talking to Boucher about trafficking in human organs. Once the word gets out about the emails you've found, and it will get out, my guess is they may be inclined to seek Federal prosecution."

Dragona leaned back in his chair and shook his head. His squad had worked hard to build a murder case and now the Feds were interested in moving in and taking over? "No way," he said to himself.

"Mr. Perez, no offense, but that's not going to happen," he said flatly.

"Captain, you need to understand there are international implications here. The Feds have been investigating the black-market sale of human body parts for more than a year now, particularly the involvement of foreign biomedical companies for their research purposes. This is a hot-button issue. Also, you need to understand that this Boucher's relationship with Quentin King has some political implications. As you know, Mr. King has many friends highly placed in government."

"So, what are you saying to me, Mr. Perez? That we should back off on our investigation of Bethany Bennett's murder because Quentin King is friends with the Vice-President?"

"No, I'm not saying that at all. What I'm saying is if the Feds have a stronger case for trafficking than we have for murder, we should cooperate with them."

"And what will you do when the DNA from the crime scene matches Boucher?" Dragona asked as he leaned across his desk." When it does, we've charged him with a murder that would carry a life without parole sentence when he's convicted. What would he get if the Feds convicted him of trafficking? Ten years?"

District Attorney Perez sat quietly and didn't answer. Dragona leaned back in his chair, the two men stared at each other.

"I also received a call from the Brooklyn Chief Public Defender. Your prisoner Mr. Brock is claiming he has no money to hire an attorney and wants a Public Defender," the DA said.

"So?"

"The Public Defender said two of his attorneys want to speak with Brock but were told by the Desk Sergeant downstairs that they would have to run that by you."

"That's nonsense," Dragona said. "He's downstairs in the lockup. If he wants to see a lawyer, I'll call the desk and tell them they can visit anytime up until we take him for arraignment tomorrow."

"Fine. The Public Defender also said he understood Eton Boucher is a co-defendant and that he was taken to Westchester Hospital after his arrest. He called up there and was told they had no patient by that name. Where is he?" Perez asked.

"As far as I know he was being transferred to the prison ward at Bellevue. He should check in with them."

Perez nodded and stood up. "One more thing. Jamison told me you have Giovanni Portovano's grandson with you as an intern?"

"That's correct. Leonardo."

Perez squinted his eyes at the acknowledgement. "Well, I don't need to know why that is, but Jamison said the kid's very sharp and almost finished school for his law degree."

"That's correct."

"And I was told he's been turned down for internships with the DA's office because of his family name," Perez added.

"That's correct again. I'm giving him a chance, and so far, I'm impressed with him. He's smart and learns quickly."

Perez reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a business card.

"Here, give him this. If you think he's worth taking a chance on, so do I; tell him to call me." he said as he offered the card to Dragona. He didn't take it. "I think it would be better coming from you. C'mon, he's in the squad room, I'll introduce you."

After a brief conversation with Leonardo, Attorney Perez left, Jamison Parker announced he had finished the search warrant application and needed Dragona and Lauren to go downtown with him to find a judge. An hour later they walked out of the courthouse with a search warrant in hand.

"I guess it really is who you know," Lauren said as they walked to Dragona's car. "In Intelligence that would have taken half a day. After some discussion, Dragona convinced her to drive his car, on the way back to Manhattan South he called Chief Prentiss to arrange for the support officers to meet them at the storage facility in two hours. He gave the Chief the street address and glanced at his watch. If all went as planned, they would be executing the warrant at six pm.

At five-fifty he and Lauren arrived at the storage facility, followed by Carmen and Sgt. Manny Diaz. They saw a marked cruiser and two uniform officers standing outside the business office, a Medical Examiner van and an NYPD Crime scene van were parked in the driveway. As Dragona got out of the car to speak with the facility manager he turned and saw Chief Prentiss's unmarked car come into the lot. He hadn't expected that.

Dragona assembled the officers and support staff and explained they would be searching for human remains related to a homicide case. One of the crime scene techs who was dressed in a paper coverall suit handed each of the detectives and officers a surgical mask. The facility manager walked with them to the storage unit Brock had rented, he used a bolt cutter to remove the padlock and stepped back. All eyes were now on Dragona. He slowly raised the metal overhead garage door, suddenly, even with surgical masks, the odor of death was unmistakable.

Sgt. Diaz shined a flashlight onto what appeared to be a rolled-up tarp lying against the back wall of the unit. Two ice chests were on the floor.

Everyone stood gathered at the entrance, no one moved as they looked at Dragona.

"All right. I'll do it," Carmen said with resignation as she brushed the others aside and walked inside the unit. After putting on a pair of surgical gloves she went over to the first ice chest and unlatched the top. As she lifted the lid a cloud of white vapor wafted up into her face. She turned her head to the side.

"Dry ice," she said as she coughed several times.

She reached inside and pulled out a large glass container that appeared to be filled with a liquid. She held it up and examined it.

"It's a human heart," she said as she turned to the group standing at the entrance.

She opened the second chest, again a white vapor escaped. She pulled out what appeared to be a shallow plastic lidded container. She slowly pried the lid off and stared at the contents.

"This looks like a kidney," she announced as she re-sealed the lid.

An evidence tech and one of the Medical Examiner aides entered the unit without speaking, they helped her drag the rolled-up tarp to the center of the unit. It was secured with duct tape wrapped around each end, the evidence tech turned and said to his co-worker he needed something to cut the tape.

"Wait! I've got it," Carmen said as she reached into the back pocket of her jeans and pulled something out. She was holding a switchblade knife, in an instant the blade sprung open. Chief Prentiss looked over at Dragona and shook his head.

Carmen cut the tape at each end and carefully sliced the side of the roll from end to end. The techs helped her peel open the roll, suddenly the two men jumped back and looked away. Carmen stayed kneeling, as if frozen. In a few seconds she slowly turned toward Dragona.

"Guess who we have here."

Dragona, Lauren and Chief Prentiss slowly stepped forward and looked down.

It was the body of Gisella Hould.

_" Oh my God! Why did they kill her?"_ Lauren whispered.
**Chapter 26**

The next morning as Dragona turned onto West 25th Street where Manhattan South was located, he saw it was lined with TV station news trucks and vans. He glanced to his right and saw several uniformed officers standing at the building entrance holding back a throng of reporters. He thought to himself the word must have gotten out the suspects in the murder of Bethany Bennett would be brought outside for the drive to their arraignment this morning. He shook his head in amazement. He would have thought by now the press would realize high profile prisoners are transported from the lockup to Court under high security. The 'Perp Walk' photo opportunity they were seeking would be at the Courthouse, not the Precinct. He slid his access card into the gate leading to the underground garage and entered.

As he stepped out of the elevator into the Precinct lobby Desk Sergeant Johnny Costello waved him over. It was a few minutes before ten in the morning, already the old-timer cop looked as if he had worked a double shift.

"Thanks a lot, Danny," he griped as he motioned his head toward the commotion at the lobby front door.

He walked over to the Sergeant and apologized.

"Sorry Sarge, but you knew this was coming,"" he said. "I didn't see the prisoner transport van downstairs when I pulled in. We're going to arraign Brock this morning, aren't we?"

"Yeah, I called over to Riker's this morning, they said traffic is a mess and they were running late. They should be here soon, though. By the way, there's two lawyers from the Public Defender's Office down in the lockup talking with your boy," he replied. Dragona nodded, apologized again for the disruption, and took the elevator up to his offices.

As he walked into the Violent Crimes Unit offices, he was greeted by his detectives, Assistant DA Jamison Parker and two other men, one he recognized as FBI Senior Agent Brett Bingham. He acknowledged them and said he needed a minute to get settled in as he went into his office, took off his sport coat, and logged onto his computer.

Last evening, he had stayed late at the storage unit search while evidence technicians processed the scene for fingerprints on the glass jar and plastic container and turned the suspected human organs over to the Medical Examiner technicians.

A cursory examination of Gisella Hould's body found ligature marks on her throat and neck, the Assistant Medical Examiner preliminarily declared the cause of death as strangulation.

Sergeant Manny Diaz obtained log sheets of persons entering the gated storage lot for the past three months to learn how often Mark Brock had been there, evidence that would be critical to tie together the dates of Gisella Hould reported as a missing person and the discovery of her body.

The most important piece of evidence, although totally unexpected, was the tarp her body had been wrapped in. It was identical to the movers' tarp Dragona had obtained from Quentin King's house.

"It doesn't get any better than this," he thought to himself as the crime scene tech photographed her body and cut off a small sample of the tarp for a comparison analysis with the sample he had previously obtained.

Lauren had stayed at the scene until eight pm, much of that time spent on the phone with her Supervisor at the Intelligence Unit.

She arranged for the recovered heart and kidney to be processed for blood type and DNA to be compared to the deceased persons in the missing organs' cases the Unit had been working on.

"We know that the body of the female that washed up from the East River was missing her heart and kidneys; we'll concentrate on that case first," she had informed Dragona.

He walked out into the squad room and greeted Agent Bingham with a handshake, he in turn introduced the man with him, Agent Peter Oldham. Dragona looked over and saw his squad of Violent Crimes detectives standing by Carmen's desk, the looks on their faces said it all. They weren't happy with the Federal presence.

"Dan, we were sent here on the request of DA Perez. He's asked the Bureau for assistance with contacting Interpol to do a quick background investigation of your suspect Eton Boucher. We learned he's been admitted to Bellevue, so we paid him a visit. I hate to say this; I know he shot at you guys and resisted arrest but, his face looks like he ran into a freight train."

Dragona looked over at Carmen and Lauren who were sitting by her desk a few feet away and had heard the agent's remark. Carmen's reaction was an unabashed smile. Dragona motioned for the agents to take a seat at the conference table.

"Is that it, Brett? The Bureau's just doing a background on Boucher?" Dragona asked. 'You guys are contacting Interpol?"

The agent looked over at his partner, then back to Dragona. "Not exactly, Dan. Our boss was told you seized Boucher's laptop. We have a search warrant to take possession from you," he said as he reached into his jacket pocket and produced the warrant.

_" Oh, for Christ's sake!"_ Detective Ricky Malone said loudly after hearing the agent's comment. Dragona looked over at him for a few seconds, then examined the warrant. He looked over at Tommy Burr who was sitting at his desk.

Turning to Agent Bingham he said, "You do know that NYPD has liaison detectives with Interpol in Paris and we've been in contact with them, don't you?

"No, I wasn't aware of that," the agent answered.

"Tommy, give the laptop to the Agent," Dragona said.

Without speaking, Tommy walked across the room and unlocked the metal cabinet used for evidence storage and removed the laptop. He walked over and handed it to Agent Bingham.

The agents stood up and prepared to leave.

"Dan, I hope you understand we're just doing what we were told to do. I get it. You guys worked your asses off to clear your murder case and now we're butting in. I'm sorry, but we have our orders," Agent Bingham said in apology.

Dragona stood and offered his hand. "Don't worry, Brett. I don't shoot the messenger."

The two agents looked around, thanked the detectives for their cooperation and hastily left.

_" Dammit Captain!"_ Paul Burns said angrily after the men left. "Are you just gonna let the FBI waltz in here and steal our case from us?"

"Tommy, we have the copy you made of the hard drive, don't we?" Dragona asked.

"Yes Sir! I made a copy just like you told me to."

"Good," Dragona said." Keep going through it to see if there's anything else we can use for our case."

"Uh, Captain," Detective Burns interrupted. "I apologize for shooting my mouth off. What else do you need us to do to wrap this case up?"

Dragona looked over at DA Jamison Parker. "Now we have Gisella Hould's murder to figure out."

Dragona explained that Detectives Burns and Malone had done surveillance on Hould and saw her go into a bank in Midtown.

"Jamison, I want to know what she did in the bank. What do you want us to do to get records of her accounts?" Dragona asked.

The DA explained that now that they had a case before the Court in which Hould was involved, they didn't need a search warrant; he could issue a subpoena. He reached into his briefcase and pulled out a document.

"I happen to have a blank subpoena right here."

Ten minutes later with a subpoena in hand, Detectives Burns and Malone headed out to the First Trust Bank on Broadway.

Dragona gave his other detectives their assignments. Carmen would go down to the Coroner's Office for the autopsy of Gisella Hould; Sergeant Diaz would pay a visit to the Forensic Lab and convince them to do an immediate comparison of the tarp taken from Quentin King's house with the sample from the wrapping on Hould's body. Matt Costa was assigned to work with Tommy Burr on reviewing the contents of the hard drive he had copied from Boucher's computer.

When he finished, Lauren asked, "What do you want me to do?"

"You and I are going over to King's Court to break the news to Jerimiah that Gisella Hould is dead."

Just as he and Lauren were stating toward the door, Tommy Burr called out.

"Captain, it's the Desk Sergeant, he said he needs to talk to you. He says it's important."

Dragona walked over and took the phone from Tommy. "Yeah Sarge. What's up?"

"It's your prisoner, Brock! He's downstairs with his lawyers and is refusing to go to his arraignment. He says he wants to talk to you; he wants to make a deal!"

Dragona was taken aback by the news. Brock hadn't even been arraigned yet and he want to cut a deal? And refusing to go to his arraignment. He can't do that he thought to himself.

Dragona thanked the Sergeant and said he'd be downstairs in a few minutes. He called Lauren and DA Parker over and explained the Desk Sergeant's message.

"He can't refuse to be arraigned, for God's sake. What's he trying to pull?" Parker asked.

Dragona thought for a minute. "If he says he wants to make a deal, I think we should talk to him."

Parker thought for a minute. "All right, let's do it!"

On the ride in the elevator down to the basement lockup, Attorney Parker explained that before they spoke with Brock, he wanted him to sign a waiver of timely arraignment agreement stating it was his request for the delay. When they arrived at the lockup, they were greeted by his two Public Defenders, the senior of the two introduced herself as Elizabeth Hunt. She acknowledged Brock's request to speak with the him was highly unusual, but said he was emphatic.

"I want it on the record from the onset that our client is pleading not guilty to the murder charge," Ms. Hunt said, "And further, we have advised him not to make any statements"

"Your client?" Parker asked. 'For the record Ms. Hunt, your client will 'be facing two counts of murder at his arraignment.

"Two counts?" she asked in an incredulous tone. "Who is the second victim?"

"Why don't I explain that to you and your client at the same time," he answered as he motioned toward the interview room where Brock was being detained and guarded by two uniformed officers.

They went inside, the room was small. Ms. Hunt and her associate took seats next to Brock, D.A. Parker sat across from them, Dragona and Lauren leaned against the wall near the door.

Jamison Parker introduced himself as being with the Brooklyn District Attorney's office and explained the waiver of arraignment he needed before he would discuss the case. Brock look over at his attorney, she whispered into his ear for a few seconds. He shook his head as if in disagreement with what she was saying

"Tell me where to sign," he said loudly as he turned to Attorney Parker.

The D.A. opened his briefcase, pulled out a piece of stationary and took a few minutes to write something. As he waited, Brock never took his eyes from Lauren.

He appeared to be posturing as a tough guy; arms folded across his chest, shoulders back, he leaned into his chair and cocked his head to the side in a display of arrogance.

Parker finished writing and slid the document in front of Brock's attorneys; he waited while they studied it.

Ms. Hunt leaned over to say something privately to Brock, he jerked his arm away from her hand and snatched the document from in front of her. He quickly read it and looked up at the District Attorney.

_" Give me your pen,"_ he demanded in a voice that had the tone of a command. He took the pen and scribbled his signature, pushing the paper in front of Parker after he finished. He looked up and glared at Dragona.

"So, you're the Dragon, huh?" he asked in a mocking tone. "Well, Mr. Dragon, I didn't kill that bartender bitch, and after I beat this joke of an arrest, I'm going to sue you and the whole NYPD," Brock declared defiantly.

"Mr. Brock, for the record," D.A. Parker said, "you will be arraigned on the charge of Conspiracy to Commit Murder in the First Degree and Desecration of a Corpse in the death of Bethany Bennett."

"I never touched her,' Brock argued. "Did you get my fingerprints or DNA off of her?" he asked accusingly.

Parker looked over at Dragona who said nothing and stared at Brock.

"I didn't think so," Brock sneered. "You ain't got nothin' on me."

"Hey! Tough guy!" Dragona said as he stepped forward and leaned his hands on the table to get closer to Brock's face.

"We searched the storage unit you rented over on Fulton Street and we found Gisella Hould's body that you stashed there. That's another count of murder you're going to be charged with. You're looking at life in prison without parole, Tough Guy."

Brock's eyes widened; the color visibly drained from his face.

"You're bluffing," Brock said defensively, his voice now weakening.

"Am I?" Dragona countered. "We've had you under surveillance. We have you on video at King's Court getting an envelope of money from your pal Eton Boucher; we have the lease agreement for the rental unit you signed using the passport of one of the young guys Eton brought back from France as entertainment for Quentin King. And best of all, we have you in possession of Bethany Bennett's severed face and Gisella Hould's body in your storage rental unit. You call that bluffing?"

Brock's two Public Defenders looked as shocked as their client.

"I want a deal!" Brock shouted looking at Jamison Parker. "Not with you, I want it in writing from the D.A. himself," he demanded. Parker kept his composure.

"A deal? You want a deal? And what are you selling Mr. Brock? More human body parts."

Ms. Hunt interrupted. "Mr. Brock! As your attorney I'm advising you not to...."

She never got to finish her statement.

_" Shut up!_" he shouted. _" You're fired! Get out of my sight!"_ Brock yelled as he shoved the woman's shoulder almost knocking her from her chair. The two officers standing behind him instantly moved in and restrained him against the back of his chair until he calmed down.

Public Defender Hunt was shaken by the outburst, it took her a minute to re-focus.

"Mr. Parker, I must insist that you not question our client, he's obviously not in the proper mental state to be interviewed."

"I have two issues with that Ms. Hunt" Jamison Parker calmly said." First, I clearly heard your client tell you that you're fired; second, he's signed a waiver of timely arraignment and acknowledgement of his Miranda Rights regarding his right to legal counsel and notice that any statements he makes may be used against him. If he waives those rights and wants to talk, the State is willing to listen."

Ms. Hunt looked over at her associate, a young man dressed in a business suit, his babyface gave the appearance he was fresh out of law school and was wishing he was anyplace else but in the room. He motioned with his hands he had nothing to say.

Ms. Hunt stood up and turned to Brock.

"We'll leave, you've made it clear that you won't accept our legal advice," she said. "Again, I caution you that any statements you make will be used against you."

Brock sneered.at her. " _Get out of my face. I know what I 'm doing."_

Ms. Hunt and her associate left the room with her shaking her head in obvious disbelief of what had just happened. Brock looked over at Jamison Parker and laughed.

Parker glanced over to Dragona and Lauren for a moment, then turned his attention to Brock, Parker stood up and put his hands on the table and leaned in close.

_" Listen to me,"_ he said to Brock raising his voice. _" I'm going to prosecute you and put you in prison for the rest of your natural life. If you think the District Attorney is going to waste his time listening to your lies that you're innocent, you're a fool. You and Boucher viciously murdered Bethany Bennett and cut her face from her body. And for what? Money? You're animals! You know what we do to animals? We put them in a cage, and that's what I'm going to do to you!"_

Parker turned to the officers guarding Brock.

"Get him packaged up and over to the Courthouse for his arraignment," he said angrily

Parker reached down, grabbed his briefcase and shoved inside the waiver Brock had signed.

_" Hey! You can't do that! We had a deal!"_ Brock yelled.

"We're out of here" Parker said to Dragona and Lauren as he headed to the door.

They walked to the elevator in silence. Parker slammed his thumb into the up button; he was breathing hard and fast. Lauren looked over at Dragona with a worried look.

"What was that?" Dragona asked. "He sounded like he was going to roll over on Boucher," Dragona said.

Parker turned to face them, his face was red, there was fire in his eyes.

"He was playing us! He wants control and I'm not giving it to him. I'm personally going to handle his arraignment. I'll ask for remand, if the judge balks, I'll demand one million cash only bail."

"Okay, but he says he wants a deal. You aren't thinking about cutting him a break, are you?" Dragona asked.

Parker didn't answer at first.

"After he's arraigned, I'll ask the Judge to order he be held at the Manhattan House of Detention. Tomorrow, I'll set up an interview with a stenographer present. Once we get confirmation the DNA on the flesh inside the luggage carrier matches the Bennett girl, you'll have him cold for at the least, conspiracy to commit murder. Now we need to find out why the Hould woman was killed, that will add the second count. After a night in general population in jail, I'm betting he'll spill his guts."

Dragona realized the D.A. was taking a chance, but this was his case now. The Violent Crimes Unit just had some loose ends to clean up.

They rode the elevator up one floor to the Precinct lobby; Parker stepped out and said he was heading over to the courthouse to smooth the way for Brock's late arraignment. Dragona and Lauren rode up to the third floor to the Violent Crimes offices.

Dragona sat down in his office and typed up a supplemental report on the arrests of Boucher and Brock and the search of the storage unit where Gisella Hould's body, the heart, and kidney were found. He was so involved with his work he lost track of time. The intercom buzzing on his desk phone broke his concentration. He answered, it was Tommy Burr.

"Captain, it's Detective Burns on line two."

Dragona picked up the call.

"Captain, we're just getting ready to leave Hould's bank. We have printouts of her accounts and learned Boucher has had power of attorney over her finances for the past six months. Boucher withdrew fifty-thousand in cash from her saving's account three days ago."

"What?" Dragona asked in disbelief. "Didn't the bank question that?"

"That was my first thought," the detective said. "When I asked the manager about the power of attorney, he said the Hould woman had told him she had raised Boucher as his foster mother and she had no other next-of-kin. They came into the bank together six months ago, the manager said at the time he thought Hould's decision was a smart financial planning decision and he helped them with the paperwork."

"But didn't he think the fifty thousand withdrawal was suspicious?"

"At first, yeah, but Boucher told him she was having a surgical procedure and was self-insured. The money was supposedly for her medical and aftercare expenses," Burns explained.

"That was cunning on his part." Dragona replied

He glanced at his watch and saw it was a few minutes past five. He instructed Burns to drop the bank documents at the office when they finished and he and Ricky Malone could call it a day. He hung up the phone and sat staring at it. Things were coming together, he thought. A tapping on the fame of his office door caused him to look up. It was Lauren.

"Hey! you just got a call from Manny Diaz. I saw you were on the phone so I took a message for you."

He waited for her to say something, instead she had a strange smile on her face.

"And his message was...?" he asked.

"He's over at the Forensic Lab. He said the tarp Gisella Hould's body was wrapped in at the storage unit matches the tarp we believe was used on the floor in Bethany's apartment. But that's not the best part?"

Dragona waited; again, she was playing the drama card.

"And the best part is...?

"The flesh that Brock had in the luggage cart was human; the DNA matches Bethany's."

Dragona's heart was pounding. Finally, they had physical evidence to link Boucher and Brock to her murder. Now, he needed to find the motive for Gisella Hould's murder.

He called D.A. Jamison Parker on his cellphone and updated him on the forensics' findings and the information developed at Hould's bank. He in turn informed Dragona that the judge had remanded Brock without bail, and ordered he be held at the Manhattan jail.

"He has a new Public Defender, Martin Pope, Parker said. "He's very experienced with homicide cases. I've prosecuted several cases where he's represented the defendants. He's smart and he's tough. The good part of that is he knows when it's in his clients' best interests to accept a plea bargain."

Dragona thanked the lawyer for his work in court and ended the call.

He didn't like the thought of a plea bargain that would give Brock any sentence less than life without parole, but the phone call wasn't the time to debate the point. In the back of his mind, the FBI was the wildcard. He didn't know what their next steps would be.

He went back to work and a half-hour later finished his report. He printed out a hard copy and emailed a copy to Tommy Burr for inclusion in the electronic master file he had set up.

He stood up and stretched. It had been a long day and he was tired. He wasn't hungry, but he had a nagging urge to stop and have a drink on his way home. He walked out into the squad room and found that Lauren was alone. She was on the phone, he waited for a few minutes until she ended the call. She looked a bit out of sorts.

"That was Captain Turk. He said Intelligence had a visit from the FBI this afternoon. They've opened a case on human organ smuggling and want a briefing on everything NYPD has uncovered. The Captain wants me to come back to Intelligence tomorrow morning; he said you seemed to have things under control here and he needs me for the FBI briefing," she said.

"Well, he's your Boss, and I can see his point that he needs you. I can't thank you enough for all the help you've given us. Without your work on the missing human body parts investigations I don't know if we would have caught on to Boucher and Brock's involvement,". Dragona said.

"Since you no longer officially work for me, how about we find a bar and have a drink together after work today?" he added hopefully.

Lauren stood up, reached for her shoulder bag on the desk, turned to him and smiled.

"Don't you have anything we can drink at your place?"
**Chapter 27**

The sound of a hair dryer running in the bathroom woke him. Through groggy eyes he squinted to focus on his wristwatch. Seven-fifteen. He pressed his head back into the warm pillow and tried to think. He hadn't planned last night; it was supposed to be just a drink. He smiled as he thought about how it had ended up. The bathroom door opened.

"Hey! Good Morning!" she said as she came over to the side of the bed, leaned over, and gave him a kiss. "You're almost out of shampoo. I can pick some up for you after work." She sat down on the edge of the bed and dropped the towel she had wrapped around herself

"I'm sorry if I woke you. I had to get up early so I can run home and change clothes. I don't have to be at Intelligence until nine, but I don't want to be late."

He reached over and slowly ran his hand down her back; her skin was soft and flawless. She leaned over to pull away, turning her head toward him. She grinned.

"Uh uh! Not this morning! I can't be late for work," she giggled as she stood and stepped into her slacks.

She quickly dressed, collected the wet towel and went back into the bathroom to put on her makeup. When she came out, Dragona was sitting on the edge of the bed.

"And what are your plans for today" she asked.

"I'm hoping to get Boucher discharged from the hospital so we can arraign him." .

She grabbed her wristwatch and rings from the nightstand and slipped them on. She checked the time.

"Okay, I have to run. Why don't you plan on meeting me for dinner at my family's restaurant? Say about six-ish. I can fill you in on what the FBI has up their sleeve and you can tell me how you made out with Boucher."

She leaned over and gave him a soft kiss. "Last night was perfect!" she whispered. "Maybe this weekend we can get out of the City and go somewhere up North. Think about it. I've got to run. See Ya!"

After he heard the living room door close, he sat in bed for a few minutes before he got up, showered, shaved, and got dressed. His thoughts of last night were a pleasant distraction, but he needed to shutter them in his mind. Today he needed to arraign Boucher and find out why Gisella Hould had been murdered.

He called his office; Tommy Burr promptly answered and transferred his call to Detective Paul Burns.

"Captain, we got a call a few minutes ago from the Duty Officer at the Bellevue prisoner ward. Boucher's been cleared for discharge. They're taking him to Court and he'll be arraigned this morning."

'All right, that's good., I'll call Jamison Parker and give him a heads up. I'll be in the office in half an hour."

As he stepped out of the front door of his condo building, he was instantly struck by how suddenly warm it was for a late September morning. He went around the side of the building to his car, a few minutes later he pulled to the curb in front of his favorite deli for his ritual coffee, pastry and newspaper. As soon as he stepped inside, he looked to his left and was surprised to see the rack was bare where the city newspapers were normally displayed.

He fixed his coffee, grabbed a cheese Danish and went to the counter to pay. The owner, a Middle Eastern man, surprised him as he reached under the counter and produced copies of the New York daily papers and City Streets morning edition. He spoke in broken English.

"My papers all sold out quick today. You are the news Captain, see?" he said as he pointed to the banner headline on the City Streets front page"

**The Dragon Scorches the Butchers**

"I saved these for you," the man said as he rang up the amount due. Dragona paid, thanked him, scooped up the papers and went out to his car. He sat there for a few minutes as he skimmed through the front-page stories. Both papers had photos of Mark Brock under heavy police escort being brought into the courthouse for his arraignment. To his dismay, both again had sidebar articles about him being in charge of the new Violent Crimes Unit and how he earned the Dragon nickname. What caught his eye was that the main stories named Eton Boucher as a co-defendant and connected him to Quentin King, describing him as Kings' life-partner.

As he sat parked slowly reading the articles, his cellphone beeped. He pulled it from his pocket and recognized the incoming call number as being Assistant D.A. Jamison Parker. He answered.

"Hey! Have you seen the morning papers?" Parker asked.

"Yeah, I'm reading them right now."

"I got a call from Brock's lawyer a few minutes ago, Brock wants a deal. His lawyer said he'll give a statement that Boucher murdered the girl, his part in it was to store the girl's face until he and Boucher delivered it in Paris."

"That's it?" Dragona asked. "Nothing about the black market? Nothing about who the buyer was for the girl's face? Nothing about why the Hould woman was murdered? How her body ended up in his storage unit? Where the human heart and kidney came from?"

"No, he didn't even bring that up. I'm thinking if we can interview Brock under oath, we can pressure him to give up that information."

"What's the deal his lawyer's looking for?"

"He'll plead guilty to one count of Conspiracy to Commit Murder 2nd degree, twenty years jail, but in the Federal prison system."

Dragona was silent. There was no way Brock was going to game the system if he had anything to say about it, but he realized they needed him to roll over on Boucher.

"How soon can you set up Brock's interview?" Dragona asked.

"I think we can do it this afternoon," Parker answered. "I know it's almost unheard of to talk about a plea bargain this quickly after arraignment, but his lawyer thinks Brock will be killed in jail if he's kept at Riker's Island. He's saying Federal prison is the only way he can stay alive. What do you think, Dan?"

"I say we talk to him, the sooner the better," Dragona answered and they ended the call.

Dragona didn't have long to wait. Two and a half hours later Jamison Parker called and said the interview was set for one 'o'clock at the Manhattan Central Booking Facility.

In his career Dragona had made several trips to the State's prisons to interview inmates, the one he felt most uncomfortable at was the Manhattan complex, locally known as "The Tombs." Serving as the City's holding facility for prisoners awaiting arraignment or standing trial, it got its nickname from the first jail built on the site that resembled an Egyptian Mausoleum when it opened in 1838.

Although over the years new additions to the facility were constructed as the inmate population swelled, even the newer high-rise buildings had a reputation for incidents of severe overcrowding, unsanitary living conditions and violence.

Dragona arrived twenty minutes before the interview was scheduled to start, he met Assistant D.A. Jamison Parker in the lobby where they were processed through the security checkpoint and escorted to a small conference room deep inside the North Tower. The room was stifling from the heat, sparsely furnished with a table and four chairs.

As their escort Correction Officer closed the door and left, the unmistakable clanking sound of the electronic lock added an eerie element to their situation.

Dragona surveyed the room before he sat down in a chair close to the door. He took note of a wall mounted panic button that he assumed would alert the prison staff of a disturbance. He glanced over at Jamison Parker who was setting up a video recorder, his nervousness evident as he fumbled with the camera and connections.

"I thought you said you wanted a stenographer," Dragona said.

"That was my plan, but apparently the jail is packed to the rafters, all the attorney rooms are booked; this hell-hole is the only space they could offer me and I had to almost beg for it," Parker answered, "All the stenographers are booked, so video will have to do. I'll be able to get it entered into evidence if we need it; just watch your body language," he added,

At twenty minutes past one, the clanking of the door lock startled both men as it opened and a burly Corrections' Officer ushered a handcuffed and shackled Mark Brock into the room, roughly pushed him onto a chair, and took a seat on a small metal bench bolted to the wall. They were accompanied by an older man dressed in a suit carrying a briefcase.

Dragona looked over at Brock, he was wearing an orange prisoner jump suit, he had a sullen look on his face that bore a dark bruise on his left cheek.

Parker introduced the man in the suit as Senior Public Defender Martin Pope. The man didn't offer his hand in greeting, rather he dropped the briefcase onto the table, pressed the latches and pulled out a thin manila file folder before closing the lid.

Jamison Parker turned on the video camera, announced the date and time, and that Brock was making a voluntary statement. He then recited the Miranda advisement of Rights.

_" Hey!"_ Brock said loudly _, " I said I wanted a deal in writing from the D.A. Where is it?"_

The Public Defender reached over and put his hand on Brock's arm to silence him.

"Mr. Brock, any plea deal is contingent upon you making full disclosure of your involvement in the murders of Bethany Bennett, Gisella Hould, and the planned sale of human body parts by you and Eton Boucher," Jamison Parker said.

_" No Man!"_ Brock said as he slammed his hands down on the table. _" You don't get no statement until I have a deal in writing!"_

To his credit, Parker stayed calm. "Your attorney has made a request that the District Attorney consider your guilty plea to one count of Conspiracy to commit Murder 2nd degree. If you describe your involvement in the two murders to his satisfaction, he will agree to recommend that the Court sentence you to twenty years and request for your safety that you serve the sentence in a Federal prison. I want you to be aware that the State of New York is prepared to prosecute you for two counts of Murder, Concealment of a Corpse and Abuse of a Corpse and upon conviction request that you be sentenced to life imprisonment without parole in a State prison for each murder. Ultimately the trial Judge may want to view this video of your statement and decide whether to accept the State's lesser sentence and placement recommendations. I strongly suggest you think about that."

Brock looked over at his attorney who nodded his agreement to what Parker had said. The lawyer opened the manila folder and removed a sheet of paper, laying it down on the table in front of Brock.

Brock slowly read the document. It was a statement that six months ago he was approached by Eton Boucher who told him he had a buyer in Europe who was interested in human organs for research. Last week Boucher offered him five thousand dollars cash to help him break into an apartment in Brooklyn.

He said he agreed and went to an apartment house on Center Street, they climbed a fire escape and broke in. When Bethany Bennett came into the apartment Boucher grabbed her and stabbed her.

Boucher dragged her into the bathroom where he cut her face off. He said Boucher put her face into a plastic container that had a chemical solution he said would preserve the skin and they left the apartment by the fire escape. He said he agreed to store the container at his apartment and keep it on ice. He said Boucher gave him another five thousand dollars to fly with him to Paris to meet with the buyer for the face and that was when the police showed up at the airport in White Plains and they were arrested.

The last sentence he recited almost caused Dragona to explode in rage as Brock finished and leaned back in his chair, a smug look of contempt on his face.

It read, "I had no prior knowledge that Eton Boucher was going to kill Bethany Bennett."

When Brock finished, Dragona looked over at Jamison Parker and shook his head. He turned and glared at Brock; there was fire in his eyes. Parker reached over and shut off the video camera.

_" Do you think we're fools?"_ Dragona asked Brock. "Do you honestly think we would believe that crap you just read us to get you off the hook for two counts of murder? I'll see you at your trial," he said with a snarl as he suddenly stood up. He turned to Parker. "Let's get out of here."

_" Hey! You can't do that!"_ Brock yelled as he jumped up. The Correction's Officer quickly stood and slammed him back into the chair.

_' Captain! please! Wait!"_ Public Defender Pope pleaded. "Give me a minute with my client."

Pope leaned in close to Brocks ear. Dragona couldn't hear what he was whispering, but Pope's facial expression told him the man was furious with Brock, who appeared to be protesting what he was being told. Pope persisted. A minute later Brock settled down, a defeated look on his face.

"Captain, I've advised my client to answer any questions you may have."

Jamison Parker leaned over and whispered, "Remember this will be on video. Stay calm." He reached over and switched on the camera.

Over the course of the next hour, Dragona's questions dragged the truth out of Brock that he knew that Bethany was going to be murdered.

He admitted that he and Boucher had stalked her at the club, and he had tailed the van that drove her home to see where she lived. He said Boucher had told him he worked for a while as a surgical assistant to a plastic surgeon in Paris and he had some surgical equipment stored at Quentin King's house.

When asked, he confirmed Boucher had provided the disposable surgical garb that they wore the night of the murder, and that Boucher had brought a role of thin plastic that they laid on her apartment floor to collect any blood that might be spilled. He said they were in her apartment for almost an hour before she came through the door. Boucher grabbed her and covered her mouth with his hand to prevent her from screaming before he stabbed her by the kitchen sink.

He said they dragged her into the bathroom where they stripped off her clothes and Boucher began cutting her face off. He said he started to get sick, went out to the kitchen and stood there until Boucher came out of the bathroom with a rolling luggage cart that he said contained the girl's face.

He said Boucher gathered up Bethany's clothes, put them and their surgical gowns, gloves, and masks in a large plastic garbage bag. He said they carefully rolled up the plastic sheet and put that in another trash bag before they climbed out the window to the fire escape. He said Boucher meticulously cleaned the floor for bloodstains leading to the fire escape before they left, and that they both wore two pairs of surgical gloves to avoid leaving fingerprints.

Brock said he dumped the garbage bags in dumpsters a few buildings down from Bethany's apartment near where Boucher had parked his car.

Dragona asked why Bethany was targeted, Brock was evasive at first but admitted Boucher suspected she had found out that he and Gisella Hould were skimming cash from the business.

When he saw a posting on the dark web that some rich guy wanted a human woman's face for a transplant, he thought of killing her because she was so beautiful and a potential threat to his and Gisella's money scheme.

At that point in the interview, Brock said that's all he knew about Bethany's murder. Dragona pressed him for more.

Dragona said his detectives had found a torn latex glove on the fire escape railing. As he spoke, Brock's face turned pale. Dragona pressed him on it, he admitted he had snagged his hand on the railing and the glove pulled off. He said he just wanted out of there and didn't retrieve it.

He was shocked when Dragona asked him how he managed to stay calm and collected when he showed up at the Bethany's murder scene as one of the Medical Examiner's attendants just a few hours after he had helped Boucher murder her. He was visibly upset that the police had made that connection. He stuttered and stammered, ultimately, he didn't answer the question.

"Why did you kill Gisella Hould?" Dragona pointedly asked him. At first, Brock was evasive, finally insisting he wasn't there when Boucher killed her. He admitted he only agreed to help stash her body in the storage unit. At first, he refused to answer any more questions about the woman's death, Dragona drilled him until he broke.

"Gisella raised him. He was her foster kid. She had money and Eton wanted it. He's her only heir and he told me he took out a five-hundred-thousand-dollar life insurance policy on her," Brock answered.

Dragona looked over at Parker and shook his head in disgust.

The last set of questions he asked was about the thefts of human organs from the funeral homes and the woman's body that surfaced in the East River. At this point Brock looked totally defeated. His face was pale, he was perspiring profusely; he looked as if he was going to pass out.

"All right, all right!" he said in a voice that was barely audible." I did those."

"What did you say? Speak up, I couldn't hear you" Dragona hammered at him.

"I did it! I stole the body parts from where I was working! Eton paid me to do it!"

Dragona asked some questions about the young men Boucher had brought to King's house from France, Brock was now acting physically and emotionally drained. Suddenly, he dropped his head down onto the table with a loud thud. His breathing was shallow; he was unconscious.

"Captain, I think my client has had enough for today," Public Defender Polk quietly said.

Jamison Parker reached over and turned off the video camera.

"So have I Counsellor. So have I." Dragona quietly responded.

The Correction's Officer slowly stood, walked over to Brock and grabbed his head by the hair and lifted it to see check his breathing. He released his grip on the hair, Brock's face fell and smacked against the table.

"He's alive. I'll call for the medical team," he calmly said as he pulled a portable two-way radio from his belt and called for assistance. Ten minutes later the door lock buzzed and two men wearing medical clothing entered.

Dragona looked over at Jamison Parker, his nervousness was obvious as he fumbled packing up the video camera. When he finished, they stepped out into the hallway. Joined by Brock's lawyer, they were escorted up to the lobby where they were processed out and Dragona retrieved his weapon from a small storage locker. Public Defender Pope pulled Dragona aside and offered his hand.

"Now I know why they call you the Dragon," he said. Dragona didn't respond.

"Off the record for what it's worth," Pope continued, "making a plea offer to Brock is a smart move. Any way you look at it, once he's in prison and the word gets out why he's there, he's a dead man. I know you wanted a life sentence; but in the end, I think you'll get it sooner than you think.

He shook hands first with Dragona, then with Jamison Parker, and left the building.

"What was that all about?" Parker asked as he and Dragona stepped outside.

"He said anyway we look at it, Brock's a dead man."

"He's probably right," Parker responded."

"The case is all yours now, Jamison," Dragona said as he thanked the lawyer for his assistance to the case and shook his hand. "Put Eton Boucher away for life."

Dragona drove back to Manhattan South, when he entered the squad room, he saw Sergeant Manny Diaz and Detectives Matt Costa and Tommy Burns sitting at the conference table, their eyes glued to a news broadcast on the wall mounted monitor.

"Something going on?" he asked his men.

"Yeah, this is live coverage of Boucher being arraigned at the courthouse," Sergeant Diaz answered. "You should have seen it when the prisoner van pulled into the courtyard. The reporters were literally fighting with each other to get close to Boucher for a comment as they were taking his inside. Now it looks like they're waiting for him to be brought out and put back in the van."

Dragona looked around. "Where are the others?" he asked,

"They all went over to the courthouse for the arraignment," Diaz said.

Suddenly he shouted and pointed at the monitor.

"Hey! There's Carmen and Popeye walking Boucher back to the van. Jesus! Look at Boucher's face!"

Dragona cringed as he looked and watched the cameras zoom in on Boucher. He was almost unrecognizable with two black eyes and a swollen face. He did look like he had been hit by a train.

"Hey! Look at Carmen!" Detective Costa called out. "Dudes, she looks mean!"

Dragona thought to himself at least she wasn't grinning in admiration of the handiwork she had left on Boucher's face. He had seen enough, he turned and went into his office, sat down at his computer and documented his interview of Mark Brock.

He had almost finished his work when his intercom buzzed and Tommy Burr said Chief Prentiss was calling.

"Danny! I just finished a conference call with The Commissioner, the Chief of Detectives, D.A. Orlando Perez and Jamison Parker. I just wanted to thank you and your squad for their excellent work."

"Parker said you got Brock to give up Boucher for the Bennett girl and Hould's murders and he did it with his lawyer present and on video. It doesn't get any better than that! My congratulations to all!"

Dragona didn't share the Chief's enthusiasm, he simply said, "Thanks."

"Listen, Danny. The Commissioner suggested you and your squad take the next three days off as admin time and get some rest. If anything breaks that needs your squad, it can wait."

"Thanks, and please extend my thanks to the Commissioner. The guys did a great job on their first case working together and I'm pleased with how they handled themselves," Dragona said.

"And one more thing," the Chief said. "Orlando Perez stayed on the phone after the others hung up, he asked me to tell you he and his Senior Assistant DA's interviewed Leonardo Portovano for an intern position."

"And?"

"Apparently the kid aced the interview! He starts his internship Monday. Perez said when he graduates next month and passes the bar exam this Summer, he's inclined to offer him a full-time position on his staff."

"Wow Chief, that's great to hear!"

"I agree. Okay, I'll let you go. Get some rest!"

Dragona went out to the squad room and told the detectives of the Chief's call and his authorization of a paid three-day vacation. He instructed Sergeant Diaz to call the others and give them the message.
**Chapter 28**

Dragona drove over to Jackson Heights in traffic that was a nightmare of stop and go delays. He circled the block twice before he got lucky and found a parking space a half-block from the Tuscan Maiden Restaurant. He glanced at his watch; six-forty. He was fashionably late.

He went inside and saw the Rocano family and a dozen or so customers were in the bar area watching the local news broadcast. It took him only a few seconds to realize the story was about the Bethany Bennett murder case and Eton Boucher's arraignment. Suddenly, he saw a photo of himself on the screen.

"Oh no," he groaned. The reporter was re-hashing his military service record.

"Hey! There's the man of the hour!" someone shouted from the crowd. The group turned and burst into applause. He searched among the faces and saw Lauren coming from behind the bar and approaching him. She gave him a hug and a light kiss on the cheek.

"Please get me away from all this," he whispered.

Without questioning, she turned to the crowd and gave them a smile as she took his hand and led him into the dining room to the table where they had previously dined

"I am so proud of you," she said as she gave him another quick kiss before they sat down. She reached over and took his hands in hers.

"How did it go with your interview of Brock?"

Dragona explained that he had given up Boucher for both murders and provided information that Gisella Hould was murdered by Boucher for her money. Lauren looked surprised.

"Her money? That was it? Just money?" she asked.

Dragona told her yes, and quickly changed the subject and asked how the meeting between the Intelligence detectives and FBI went.

She explained the FBI initially wanted to take the murder cases over but the Police Commissioner got involved and they backed off. From what they said there was some question as to what Federal crimes were committed. She said their focus was now Quentin King.

"King? What are they looking at him for?" he asked.

Before she could answer a young waitress came over to the table with a carafe of wine. Lauren thanked her and filled each of their glasses. She raised hers in a silent toast, they both took sips.

"The FBI said for the past year they've been investigating the cases of three unidentified young men's bodies that have turned up on the streets around Atlantic City. They said at first, they thought they might have been drug overdoses, but the toxicology didn't support that theory. All three were strangled." She took another sip of wine.

"That sounds like local cases, why is the FBI investigating?" Dragona asked.

"After the third body was found their theory became the murders were the work of a serial killer. The lead Agent said the victims were all white, in their early twenties, clean cut. The bodies had no ID on them but their clothing suggested they were Europeans."

"How did they figure that?" he asked.

"That's the question we had," she answered. "They said labels in the clothes, their shoes."

"So, what's the interest in Quentin King?"

"Ha! Unbeknownst to us, they were closely watching as you were putting together the case on Boucher and Brock. They discretely interviewed King's charter pilots after you did, that's how they learned the young guys that flew into New York from Paris never were on return flights on King's jet; they're wondering what happened to them."

Dragona leaned back in his chair. The FBI was closely watching him and his detectives? The thought didn't sit well with him.

Lauren picked up on his sudden pensive look.

"Did I say something wrong?" she asked in a worried tone.

He smiled. "No, not at all. I was just thinking my detectives are going to need an in-service refresher on looking over their shoulders and watching their rear-view mirrors!" he said with a laugh to minimize his concern.

"Excuse me," came a voice off to his right. Dragona turned and saw Leonardo Portovano standing there holding hands with a very pretty young woman. He immediately recognized her as "Cat," the waitress who had waited on him earlier in the week at Milano's Restaurant.

"Hey!" he said in greeting, "Cat! Leonardo!" as he shook the young man's hand. He recalled watching them talking at the restaurant when Leonardo was having dinner with his Grandfather and he had a hunch Leonardo and the girl were more than just acquaintances.

He introduced Cat to Lauren.

"Captain, I just wanted to thank you for putting in a good word about me with Mr. Perez. He offered me an internship! I start Monday," the young man said.

"Hey! You've earned the chance. And I hear through the grapevine that when you pass your bar exam you have a good shot at joining his staff fulltime," Dragona said. "Congratulations!" he said as he shook his hand again.

"Uh, Captain? One more thing. My grandfather said when I saw you to give you a message."

"A message? How is he doing?"

Leonardo's look became subdued. "Not too good, I'm afraid."

"What is his message?"

He said, "The debt is settled." I don't know what he means by that. Do you?" Leonardo asked.

Dragona nodded. "Yeah. Please give him my thanks when you see him again.

"They look perfect together," Lauren said. as the young couple walked hand in hand across the room to their table. "He is a sweetheart with how caring he is for his Grandfather when he has dinner here."

Dragona sat quietly. Don Giovanni Portovano's passing would close a dark chapter in New York City's history, he thought to himself.

Their waitress delivered their dinners without them having ordered.

"I had a feeling you would be hungry after the day you had, so I ordered for us before your got here. I hope you're up for lemon chicken and spaghetti tonight," Lauren said.

He wasted no time and dug in; the meal was excellent. They didn't talk much as they ate, other than Lauren explaining who many of the customers were who were quickly filling up the tables. When they finished, Dragona set his plate aside; a server promptly removed it and handed him a dessert menu. He was stuffed and decided against adding to his bloat and set it aside. He noticed Lauren was looking at him as she held her wineglass to her lips.

"Uh, do you have any plans for the next few days?" she asked.

"Actually, I do. I was thinking of taking a drive up to Elmira."

"Elmira? What's up there?"

"Bethany Bennett's mother and sister. I feel they need to bring closure to losing her. I'd rather they hear the story from me directly."

Lauren looked at him for a few seconds.

"You are a good man, Danny Dragona. Would you like some company on your trip?"

"Yeah, I'd like that very much."

"Hmmm... she said as she dabbed her lips with her napkin. "In that case you'd better spend tonight at my place so we can plan our trip."

"Sounds like a plan!" he said as he stood and left a tip.
