works for me
~Antonio Lombardi
Lombardi nearly gagged when he heard about the current price on his head. He'd done nothing to deserve it! Who would put a price on his head!? He muttered something to himself about hitmen as he flipped open his cell and punched in the phone number to his contact in the forensics department, knowing full well that their were plenty of people waiting on him at the moment.
Mikael had messed with him. Something he would not soon forget. But the info he dug up may still prove useful, so he had to check on it.
The voice on the other line bore the stress of a long days work and a short trip to sleep that had just been interrupted, “Hello?”
“James. Lombardi. You get the results back from those tests yet?”
“Toni,” he stirred, as if there was no problem at all, “Yeah. Of course I have them. I tried to call you but-”
“Don't worry about it. I was busy. So, whats the score here? Who am I dealing with.”
“The partial shoe print is a bust. Practically worthless unless you know everyones shoe print that you deal with.”
“Oooh, Jimmy.... you better have some better news, I'm tellin ya,” he laughed with no hint of amusement.
“C'mon, Toni. Have some faith. The bullet casings are from a forty five caliber pistol. But that ain't the best part.”
“Well good. Cause that ain't worth nothing.”
“Calm down, Toni! The fingerprint came back as a positive match. Three points... not enough to make it in court but enough to be pretty damn sure. I ran a scan through people in the database and we got one, 'Shaun Decamelo'.
The name rang in his ears like a piping hot kettle.
“Dunno what he's in here for, though. File's locked. Must be some juvey incident that can't be used against him or something. I'd watch out, Lombardi. Could be dangerous. I wouldn't trust anyone without a past.”
“Yeah. I make it habit not to.”
He stared holes through the plaster walls of his house into one of the adjacent rooms. The spacious living room with three dark green walls, white trim complete with four leather couches, a wet bar, a kitchenette and an interior pool. The fourth wall was just a large series of glass windows viewing the fabulous woodsy estate (A summer home gift from dad). His gaze disregarded all of that, shooting past the girl swinging her legs off the barstool, past the man bound by his wrists, instead drilling directly into the boy twisting the door knob to enter.
“They haven't sent in my “miss” yet?” he heard the boy reply in a tone muffled by the wooden door and empty space between them.
His teeth ground like mortar and pestle. He lifted his office phone to his mouth and spoke into it. “Send them in, Marco.”
Marco, knowing the state of his boss's mood, quickly pushed open one of the side doors, leading Andy Fletch inform a small outside sitting area, and placed him roughly on one of the chairs.
“Mr. Fletcher. Good to finally meet you.”
Toni crossed his desk, clearing the way to the door in a heavy footed haste, and opened it, “Marco. Watch the man on the couch. Send Maria and Shaun in here.”
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