A Case For Conners

Chapter 17

Chapter 16: A Good Impression

Conners strolled down the street, whistling and occasionally twirling his cane. The traffic of the city roared past him, honking angrily. The pedestrians all passed him in a hurry, most talking or texting on a cell phone. All the noise and people just couldn't bring Conners down. Having just enjoyed a movie, and thoroughly flirted with Lawrence, he was in a good mood. It had been an almost perfect day and he could think of no better way to finish it off than by making a fool out of the lieutenant.

He hailed a cab down with ease, and gave them the address. Of course, he could've called on Joe, but Conners hated to abuse his service. Joe was still a man trying to earn a living. So, unless he was working on something important and time concerning, Conners didn't usually call him.

After arriving at the station, Conners tipped the driver with a fifty, money being something he was practically oozing. Even if he hadn't received a huge payday from both the Boston and Richard cases, he wasn't hurting for work. In fact, Conners really had his choice of cases. He'd seriously considered hiring a secretary on more than one occasion, but wasn't sure who he could trust to know interesting cases from the boring ones.

The cabby took the bill, responding with a grumpy, "Probably a fake. Ah, whatever."

Conners smiled at the man's determined pessimism. Some people just refused to be happy, but he wasn't one of them, at least not today. He walked into the station and without a second glance, tossed his cane, gun, and coat to the officer behind the glass. He saw the officer wanted to call the lieutenant, and decided to put in a shot.

"Be sure to tell him that the big, scary detective is after him."

The man hung his head and picked up the phone as Conners strolled down the stairs without a care in the world. Sure enough, four officers and the lieutenant of police himself were waiting for him.

"Hello to you, too," said Conners, reaching them. "I'm fine by the way, thank you."

"What do you want, Conners?" said a patrolman, sneering. "We didn't ask for you."

"No," said Conners, still smiling. "No, you did not. However, I am not a dog to be summoned at your whims. I stop you from being so stupid that the general public will notice that you don't deserve your badge. Indeed, I am the justice that you proclaim to be. I am the toilet brush that cleans the crap from your shiny bowl… Never mind, I don't like that one… it didn't work. It did not work."

The men stared at him stupidly for a long moment, as if trying to work out what he'd said.

"So," said the lieutenant, trying and failing to maintain control. "What are you after?"

"A nice girl with auburn hair, low standards and questionable morals. I'm here for a case, moron."

The lieutenant sized him up, but gave in. After all, a couple years of proving someone wrong carried some weight, and Conners knew it.

"Joe Franchino," the lieutenant said. "He's confessing to running the racket of prostitution we were closing in on down on third street. Figures he'll get it easier if he confesses. Find our 'screw up' in that, if you can."

"All right," said Conners, walking into the interrogation room. "My turn."

"What's this?" asked Franchino angrily. "Good cop, bad cop?"

"Hardly," said Conners, "I'm not a cop."

"Then, I don't want to talk to you. I don't gotta tell you s**t, jackass."

"Of course you don't," said Conners, never losing his smile, "But you've already told me more than you want to."

"Bullshit!"

Now, Conners frowned.

"I know you don't run the prostitution ring at all. I know you've taken the fall for your capo, most likely Ray Vinci. I also know if I spread that word on the street, you won't live throughout the night."

Franchino stared at him dumbstruck, and fear showed in his face.

"But how…"

"Learn this, and make sure you remember it, guinea. My name is detective Michael J. Conners, and I'm not like these idiots in their uniforms. I am smarter than you, and all your gangster bosses put together. Do not think you can best me."

Conners got up and left the witness room. As he closed the door behind him, his phone beeped. Pulling it out, he read the following text:

Well done, detective. Enjoy your conversation with the mob. I recommend Anthony's Diner on 3rd and Luna's St. Wonderful crostata di marmellata.

- The Watcher

Conners paused. He'd never once heard of this "watcher" and wasn't sure he liked it. He tried to check the number and saw it was blocked. Shrugging, he closed the phone and decided he'd spend time on it later. After all, this case was right in front of him, and availability trumped mysterious texts. The lieutenant came running up to him.

"How do you know he's lying?"

Conners shook his head slightly and brought himself back to the present case.

"His suit is cheap, and ill-fitting. In fact, it's probably second hand. Now, you see his hands? They have scars and marks, so he's used to using them himself. His haircut is cheap, not over twenty dollars. Now his shoes, they're scuffed and on the verge of breaking. Capos wear custom, expensive shoes."

"And how did you work out his boss?"

"Once I knew he was on the bottom of the pecking order, I looked at his hands again. Franchino's left pinky is missing a bit at the end. Only Ray holds such old customs. After that, it's all rather simple. Excuse me, I'm going out for some Italian food."

Most of the police shot him a curious look, but Conners was done explaining himself. Dashing up the stairs, he was about to leave when Lawrence stopped him. He looked up at her and was surprised when it seemed like she was glowing. There was something… different with her. She wore the same clothes, hadn't cut her hair and her stance was the same as it ever was.

So what was it about her?

"Where are you off to?" she asked, snapping him out of his musings.

"Grabbing a bite, care to join?"

"You just harassed a witness, ran out of the interrogation room, and expect me to think you're going to eat?"

"No," he said. "But I am going to a restaurant."

"Well, I'd better follow you and keep your ass alive."

Conners shook his head.

"As glad as I am to hear you're interested in my ass," he said, smiling at her, "I have to go alone. Mobsters don't like women, or cops."

"So I'll go undercover."

"There's a joke in there about you being under the covers, but moving on. I'm not going to be in a lot of danger, I'll operate best alone and this is an Italian restaurant. So, I think alone will work best for me. I'll need my cane back."

The policeman nodded and tossed it to him.

"What about the gun?"

"Hold it for another hour, if you would. I'll be back soon."

He ran out and took a cab back to his house and changed into a fine suit, the only one he owned. The last time he'd worn it was to the policeman's ball last year. He smiled, remembering his chance to dance with Lawrence. She was as graceful as she was talented. Conners shook himself again. He was allowing his feelings to get at him and distract him from the case. He finished his look, opting to go for an open collar and not a tie before calling Joe and heading to the address from his text.

While in the cab, Conners used the mirror to fix his appearance in order to seem as Mafia acceptable as possible. He made small changes, but created enough of the desired effect. When they reached the restaurant, Conners limped up to the door of Anthony's Diner and turned his gaze to the young doorman, making sure to lean heavily on the cane.

This was self-defense more than anything. Bill's old cane had a 32-inch stainless steel blade inside, so it was a great defensive weapon. And because it was hidden within the cane, no one usually thought to check it. If this went wrong he wanted something to defend himself.

"Ciao," said Conners, hoping he'd picked the proper greeting. "I'm here to try your crostata di marmellata."

The youth glanced quickly from side to side and showed Conners to the back door.

"Mr. Vinci will be glad to see you," he said.

When Conners walked in, a large beast of a man, at least six and a half feet tall, searched him. Conners mentally thanked his thought to leave his gun behind. He didn't need to look like he was trying to kill a Capo.

The giant led him into a small booth where a man with slicked back hair and an expensive suit sat, eating a steak.

Conners' mind took a snapshot of Ray Vinci.

Ray's eyes had bags, poorly concealed with make-up. So, he was hiding his sleeplessness. Conners also caught the gun at Ray's waist and knife in the sleeve of his coat. He was paranoid, hence the sleepless nights. Clearly, the cops were actually a threat to him. Yet, he hadn't fled town, as was the habit when such men were in trouble. So, his boss was forcing him to stay. Interesting.

Then, the man's hair caught his attention. It was slicked back, but not from product alone. His hair was greasy from lack of washing it. The capo was paranoid, sleepless, and yet too busy to keep up with himself. That suggested trouble at home, with his wife, perhaps? Possible, but he wasn't certain. Checking the man's hands, Conners saw the skin on his wedding finger was rubbed raw near the base. He'd been twisting the band around his finger regularly, and so confirmed Conners' theory.

"Hello there, detective Conners," Ray groaned before turning to a waiter. "Someone get him what I'm having. He is a very important guest."

"Mr. Vinci," he said, feigning Italian manners. "It is an honor."

"How can I help you, detective?" asked the mobster as Conners sat down.

Conners had not expected to have to do the truly dramatic conversation. Meals with mafia members had become a tense moment in Hollywood films for good reason. He wasn't too concerned about the food. Italians had an attitude towards food and wouldn't soil it with poisons… usually.

There was definitely a risk of the bodyguard cracking him over the back of the head with a baseball bat, or just shooting him twice in the head. A steak and glass of red wine was placed in front of him and Conners eyed the man across the table wearily.

"It is not how you can help me," he said, cutting up the steak. "It's what I can offer you."

"Which is?"

Conners was picking each moment carefully. In no way could he threaten Vinci, at least not yet. He was to appear as if he was bringing the capo a gift of friendship. All the classic gestures were still in the mafia today: Honor, promises and dedication.

"You have a rat. The boy you sent to us ratted you out to save his own skin."

Ray paused for a split-second. Conners used the moment to read his facial expression. His bottom lip was parted just slightly, and his eyes were open wide, despite the actual brows being furrowed. Vinci was legitimately surprised.

Conners began eating the meat and sipping the wine gently. He had dropped the bombshell, so the ball was temporarily in his court.

"So, Joe snitched on me?" he asked, trying and failing regain control of the situation.

"Yes, I'm afraid. Can't trust anyone anymore, right?"

"So why warn me? You work with your pigs often enough."

Conners saw this as a threat. It didn't mean Vinci would kill him, but he definitely thought there was risk of Conners turning him into the police, which of course there was.

"Oh, I do, but it's all for my own purpose. The police have several nice tools to play with, and they help me get paid. It's all about the cash, and I figure this warning might serve as a favor to you. I am in business for myself after all, not for them. I thought if I scratch your back…"

"Of course," said Ray. "Here is a check for two grand. Is that enough for your tip?"

"Ample," said Conners, accepting the payment. "I would advise you to leave as soon as you can. They'll close in soon and now they'll know your habits."

"Thank you for your advice."

"Thank you for the food, my compliments to your cook."

Conners stood and nodded to the man before taking his leave, leaning on the cane just to be safe. He smiled to himself as he took Joe's cab back to the police station. His plan was almost complete. All that was needed now was and wait for his mouse to spring the trap.

He arrived back at the station only to have Lawrence run up to him, concerned when she saw him leaning on the cane. Her concern had just cause, as Conners had never appeared to be so injured in front of her, or the other officers.

Of course, Conners normally never would've fooled them like this and didn't enjoy doing it now. However, he needed to get the cane into the holding cells and if he didn't explain his plan there was no chance of Lawrence trying to convince him to change it.

"I am afraid I underestimated our friend Mr. Vinci."

"Are you hurt?"

"Not deep or lasting, but my leg will pain me for a day or so."

"Well, let's arrest him then!" she said, smiling. "Assaulting a city hero is definitely a crime. Do you have your proof?"

"I will have it, come this evening. I need to question our witness one more time. Unless you have a problem with that, lieutenant?"

"Not at all," said the lieutenant, showing concern for Conners as well. "You know the way."

He walked through the metal detector to go downstairs and it beeped angrily.

"Of course," he said to the guard. "I forgot, the handle is metal. May I keep it with me? The injury is still pretty painful."

"Of course," said the officer.

Conners limped down the stairs to the room where the man sat.

"What?" asked Franchino. "You want to interrogate me some more?"

"No," said Conners, sitting down. "You and I are going to wait."

"For what?"

"You shall see, and if you wish to live tonight, you will not rat me out."

Hours slowly ticked by. After sometime, they heard an announcement go out over the speakers, and cops scrambled all over the place. But they couldn't hear what was going on, and honestly Conners didn't care. He was here for one fish in particular and he was going to catch his prey.

Several times, Conners saw Joe consider running, but Conners kept his bait still until they heard footsteps. Desperate to make sure the approaching party didn't see him, Conners dove under the window. Two men entered the room and Conners peered around the corner. Vinci and the bodyguard from earlier were dressed as cops, in full uniform. Needless to say the guard upstairs wouldn't have recognized two mobsters, though how he had slipped past everyone else upstairs eluded Conners.

Neither man saw him and both sat on the table opposite Franchino. Keeping quiet as a mouse, Conners tapped the record button on his phone.

"So Joe," Vinci said. "You think you can rat us out, turn states and get some protection huh? After all I do for you, you stab me in the back? You just go blab your mouth about this thing we got going?"

"I didn't!" shouted Franchino. "It was that man, in the long coat... Conners! He knew before I said anything."

Without a sound, Conners slowly switched his grip his cane, ready to use it as a bludgeoning tool if he had to.

"You're a liar and a snitch, and you know how we handle a snitch."

Vinci pulled out a blade and slowly moved towards Franchino. Conners sprung on his foe. Vinci was so shocked by his appearance that in the two seconds it took either to respond, Conners slid Vinci's gun from his waist and used his cane to break the bodyguard's ankle.

The guard fell down letting out a small cry of pain as Conners turned to cover Vinci with his cane. The capo twitched his hand and Conners knew it was to use the knife. A quick thrust and the knife was sent skidding across the floor. Conners stuffed the gun in his coat, and picked up the bodyguard's gun to shoot the large man in the foot. Then, he steadily held his blade up to Vinci's neck. Soon, the guard from upstairs came running in, loosely holding his own weapon.

"There you are," said Conners. "Arrest these two men, please. Tell me, where are the others?"

"There was a bomb threat at the hospital, sir. They're clearing everyone out."

"Of course," said Conners.

"These two told me they were to interrogate him about it all, and see if he was involved. I didn't think a thing of it."

"Of course not," said Conners bitterly. "Be more careful in future. You almost cost our man here his life. But I congratulate you on being able to cuff Mr. Ray Vinci, capo, for racketeering and attempted murder."

The guard soon put Vinci and his guard behind bars and it was only then that Franchino found any words in him.

"You used me as bait for him?"

"No, I just hid in your holding room because I want to get to know you better. Of course I used you as bait! I mean I know your boss is an i***t but that's really no excuse for you."

"But you know they'll be after you now. They'll kill you."

"You forget, I'm the great and mysterious detective: Michael J. Conners. Now I suggest you escape upstairs while our policeman is busy and get out of all this while you can."

Franchino nodded and ran pell-mell out of the station and into the night. Conners smiled and laughed softly to himself. Just then, his phone offered the familiar tune for a text coming through.

Well done, detective. I will be keeping my eye on you.

- The Watcher