Diamond in the Rough

I hung up the phone and was about to return it to my pocket when it rang again. I was shocked at the name that came up: “Hi, Commissioner Whelan. Detective Diamond speaking.”

“Diamond, I hear you were harassing a Mercotti, even accusing him of being involved with a murder?”

“Sir, I asked routine questions in the hopes of ruling…”

“You have ruled him out, or you will rule yourself out of a job. Am I clear?”

“Sir? Yes but…”

“If I am clear here, then we are done. If I am not, you may very well be. Understand?”

For once I bit back what I wanted to say and said: “Yes, sir.” Instead. I could HEAR his satisfied nod as he hung up.

I called Milton. Took him six rings to pick up, so either he was getting lucky with the good Doctor or had been shot down and started drinking early. “Jack? We just talked. What’s up?”

I answered: “Just had an angry call from the Commish. Does not want me bugging the Mercotti’s.”

“Really? He had your number?” Milt said, a little surprised.

“Gave it to both Vito and Carol. Was about to pass out cards to the rest of them, when I thought to ask you about the bodies.”

“Hmm. Only time I ever saw him interrupt an investigation was when his wife was implicated in a fraud case,” Milt mused; “Tread carefully, partner. I can retire comfortably at any time, but you are just getting started. Oh, and there are definitely parts of two bodies, one male, one female. But only one head.”

“This is getting disgusting,” I replied. “Think we need to go back to the restaurant and make sure no possible evidence went missing.”

“I can be there in about fifteen minutes. I’ll verify that the Uniforms are keeping the scene under control first.”

“Good. I am about twenty out. See you soon,” I replied and hung up. I took a breath and headed to the board room. As I crossed the threshold, my phone rang again. I sighed and answered without checking the number. “Problem, kid,” I heard Milton say breathlessly. “I was just told the uniforms were told to leave right after we vacated the scene. Things are going south fast.”

“Understood,” I replied. “Will try to speed things up,” I added and hung up, swearing under my breath.

I needed a teleporter and a drink. Sadly, neither was in evidence and at least one probably did not exist.

Vito had been watching me and took out his phone. I stepped into the room: “Well, gentlemen, I have to call this short. Something came up and…”

“There should be a cab waiting outside to take you back to your car, Detective Diamond,” Vito informed me. “I have things to take care of here or I would drive you back myself. Cab is prepaid.”

I was surprised by his generosity - and half suspected an ulterior motive., “Thank you sir, but if I can get them to take me to the restaurant instead, that would be even more appreciated.”

He gave me a questioning look but nodded. “I’ll call down and change it then. Should be ready before you hit the lobby, Detective.”

“Thanks Vito, that is very kind of you,” I said.

He was on his phone and ignored me.

The cab pulled up just as I stepped outside. “You Diamond?” The dark-skinned driver said with an odd lilt to his voice.

“According to the government and my parents, yeah, but I feel more like a rhinestone right now,” I said. He laughed dutifully.

“Told you going to D’Argento’s?” He said as I belted in and he launched forward.

“Yep,” I replied, showcasing my mastery of the art of small talk.

“If you looking for lunch, I know better place,” he offered.

I looked at his badge, and replied “No, Jean-Michele, I am looking for a crime scene.”

“May know some better ones of those, too,” he replied, smiling. It was my turn to laugh dutifully.

After that brief chuckle, I said: “Give me your card and maybe I’ll have you show me some of them later, but for now, just need to get to D’argento’s.”

His laugh at this was deep and genuine: “You one of good ones, sir,” he said, sliding a card back to me at the next stop sign. Two turns later and I could see not only our destination, but also Milt leaping out of his car and running inside..

The cab pulled up mere seconds later. As Vito supposedly covered the fare, I tossed a five to the driver as a tip and said: “Thanks, Jean-Michele.”

“Just call me Mike. And call anytime sir. You one of the good ones.”

“I try,” I replied and rushed into the building.

Milt was shouting angrily as I entered, and several restaurant staff members were staring at him, showing a mix of horror, frustration and fear on their faces.

Domenic walked in just as I did and bellowed almost as loudly as Milt was: “What is the meaning of this interruption!”

Milt turned to him with fire in his eyes: “This is an active crime scene and your people are cleaning it up…””

“I have a business to run,” Dominic replied with equal fire.

I stepped between them: “Wait, did the Commissioner promise that you would open as usual?” I said.

Both men froze as if slapped, and Domenic recovered first: “Of course, why would you ask that?”

I glanced at Milton. Instead of answering, I just said: “Give us ten minutes to look around and see if we, or the CSU guys, missed anything earlier, and then you can get back to business, Okay?”

Both men gave me questioning looks, and Domenic looked away. “I’ll give you fifteen, but then you are out of here, capisce?”

“Perfect,” I said to him. He shook his head and walked off muttering curse words in four languages, three of which I understood. As soon as he was gone, we started looking around.

Most of the restaurant staff followed Dominic out but two of them remained pretty much frozen in place and gave us some assistance during our search.

The CSU guys had been thorough, and the restaurant staff had tried to as well, but we each managed to find one thing that had been missed before. Mine was a piece of dark blue fabric and was only of moderate interest, but Milt found a bloody handprint on the underside of one really big kettle - a handprint with at least two clear fingerprints, and one missing finger. Probably our first useful lead.

We helped clean up a bit before heading out. “I need a ride to go get my car,” I told Milt as we headed out. “Apparently it is not classy enough to take to meet Captains of Industry.”

He laughed. “That car is not classy enough to take to the Salvation Army store, but that never stopped you!”

“Where else can I afford these fine suits on a cop’s salary?” I replied. He let out a light chuckle, unlocked his car and pointed to the passenger door.