Trapping the Trappers
Wilmington, Delaware
I slept very little, thinking all night about the “coincidence” of Bobby’s killer striking the very night Frankie and Bobby had a fight. The way I figured it, the killer had to have been at the bar. He must have been stalking Bobby, and when he saw what happened with Frankie, he decided to do it that night. It was the only thing that made sense. That still left the question of why Borelli hadn’t thought of it. He was the goddamn detective. And of course, it left the bigger question of who wanted Bobby dead.
As I dressed for work, I heard the sweet sound of Angie’s humming from the kitchen. I think she inherited that habit from Mamma Rosa. Few things in life made me happier than that. She had a way of making my day brighter just by listening to
